I Think You Should Know I'm Damaged
by LolaBleu
Summary: Violate AU. What happens when two messed up kids fall in love and save each other.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Let's try this again, shall we? Hopefully it won't get removed this time :)

* * *

Dr. Harmon had moved to Los Angeles 3 weeks ago. He hoped the move would be a fresh start for his family; they had had a rough few years. It started when his wife died giving birth to their youngest daughter, Vera. Violet, their oldest daughter was starting her senior year in high school. She had stayed in Boston the last 3 weeks with the baby and the nanny to give Ben some time to set up the house for them, and to celebrate her 18th birthday with friends. Violet didn't want to move to L.A. but after Hayden, the psychotic student her dad had buried his grief in, started stalking the family she saw the necessity of it, even if she knew she wouldn't be happy there.

Ben already had a number of patients by the time Violet and Vera arrived in L.A., one of which was Tate, their neighbor. He lived in the "murder house" that was on the opposite side of the block, sharing a fence with the Harmon's property. He lived there with his mother Constance, her boyfriend Larry, and his sister Adelaide. Like Violet he was starting his senior year at Westfield High School.

* * *

It was Thursday afternoon, time for my weekly meeting with Dr. Harmon. Our house shared a back fence with his, and it probably would have just been easier, thick shrubs not withstanding, to hop it. I didn't think that would set the right tone though, so I walked around the block to his front door. As I went to knock the door opened and a girl with honey colored hair, a head shorter than myself walked right into me. I grabbed her arms to steady her as her brown eyes widened from the shock of meeting something solid. I held her there at arms length for a moment before she pulled away and muttered "sorry", and got in an old VW Kharmann Ghia. I stared after her, but Dr. Harmon came to the door a moment later.

"Oh, hello Tate. Come inside and we'll get started."

There was a fresh pile of boxes waiting at the bottom of the stairs all with "Violet" written across them in large letters. "Was that your daughter who just left?" I asked innocently. He replied that it was, adding that she had just arrived the night before.

I couldn't focus all through the session. They were usually boring anyway, but today after seeing Violet it was more like torture. When the doctor asked what was on my mind I couldn't tell him I was thinking of his daughter. He wouldn't think I was good enough for her anyway. To him I was just a fucked up kid; a really fucked up kid. But I kept thinking of how soft and warm she was under my hands. I had a strange sensation as I looked in her eyes, like I'd been waiting for her without knowing it.

When I got home I climbed up to the attic, which had the only window in the house that afforded a view of the Harmon's backyard. I was just hoping for a glimpse of her again, I guess. It felt weird to do it; a normal person wouldn't do this I thought to myself, but it didn't stop me. She didn't come outside until it was dusk. They had a table on their patio and she was setting plates on it, trailed by a very little girl. I supposed she could be her daughter, she wouldn't be the first teenaged mother, but the thought sickened me, so I focused on her being her sister. I thought I must be right though because Dr. Harmon was the one whose lap she sat on during dinner.

As I was watching Beau came out of the shadows to watch too. I pointed out each member of the little family to him, giving the little girl a made up name since I didn't know it. "The girl is Violet. She's pretty, huh?" He just smiled at me. I watched her as she laughed, genuinely laughed as her and her dad talked over dinner. That never happened around our table; usually there was just yelling and broken plates. Once she was alone though, her face fell, and she sat at the table smoking and worrying her lip before finally going in the house. I stayed in the attic for long after they had all gone back inside. It wasn't until I saw Dr. Harmon putting the little girl to bed in the room next to his that I left.

I went back to my room, and lay on the bed, hating the terrible twist of fate that I had to meet her where and when I did. If I could have seen her at school first, or at least if she could have seen me at school first it would have made a difference. Then I could have talked to her without the fact that I'm nuts hanging over my head. And I did I want to talk to her; for the first I wanted to get to know a girl, and not just fuck her. But I couldn't help thinking of that too. I closed my eyes, and thought of kissing her, running my hand up the side of her body, peeling off the thin layers of her clothes. My hand slipped down, palming my growing erection through my pants, momentarily pulling me out of the fantasy before I sunk back in, drowning in the thought of her skin.

She was in my dreams that night. It started out like it always did, walking through the hallway at Westfield, the crowd parting as I raised the shotgun. But I stopped when I saw her standing in front of me at the other end of the hall, her back to me. The scene dissolved around us, and we were on the beach at night. She was still far away from me, but she turned and looked over her shoulder, her hair whipping around her in the wind. When I woke up the next morning I decided I could at least try to talk to her. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with me, and maybe she'd tell her dad and he'd yell at me, but something in me wouldn't let me not at least try.

* * *

I automatically exited the freeway; my little car zipping down the off-ramp. My car. A gift, bribe really, from my dad. An apology for having to move all the way across the country because he hooked up with some psycho after my mom died.

But I was thinking about a pair of eyes, so deep brown they were almost black, and sandy blonde hair. I didn't believe in love at first sight; that was total bullshit. At the same time though I couldn't shake that face from my mind. Lou Reed was singing about 'This Magic Moment' on repeat because of it. I couldn't deny I had definitely felt something when I looked into his eyes. It was like I couldn't breath. For the first time in my life I knew with complete and absolute certainty that I wanted this person in front of me, and with equal certainty that I would have him. The inevitability of it had sucker punched me, and it terrified me because I had no reason to feel that way. My experience with other guys hadn't prepared me for this.

It probably didn't matter. It was probably all in my head. He probably didn't feel anything for me except annoyance for running into him like an idiot, and even if he did take the time to talk me he probably wouldn't like me. I had no illusions about the kind of person I was. Not that I didn't like myself, I did, but I wasn't the easiest person to get along with. And really I hadn't cared for any guy I'd been with that much; I enjoyed their company, in and out of the bedroom, but I could just as easily walk away. Because of that it irritated me that I couldn't let go of that face.

I slowed down as I entered downtown looking for the street I needed to turn on. The place felt all wrong; like once 5PM rolled around everyone evacuated the city center. I saw a small knot of people down an alley around where I needed to be, and parked. The club was a shit hole. A small space in an old brick building; when they divided the building into smaller rooms they hadn't concerned themselves about including windows, air ducts, or an exit other than the single door I entered through. There were old movie theater benches against the walls, a stage at one end, and oddly enough a pile of dirt against one of the walls. I loved it.

I had missed the first band, but the second was just starting when I walked in, so I climbed up on one of the seats so I could see something other than the backs of people's heads. Sometimes it sucked being short. Though the night outside was chilly, inside it was sweltering. Halfway through the bands set I was pouring sweat, so I pulled my sweater off; no one would see my scars in the dark. When they finished I went outside in the alley to cool off. I leaned against the cool brick and closed my eyes enjoying the fresh air and my cigarette.

I could hear the conversations going on around me, but it wasn't until a few minutes later that I felt uncomfortable, like I was being watched. I opened my eyes, and looked down the alleyway opposite me, and there he was; the guy who I had, literally, run into yesterday. I dropped my eyes casually to look at the ground. For a wild moment I wondered if he followed me, and then I shook myself mentally. Having to deal with that crazy bitch Hayden for the last few years was making me paranoid. The fact that he was here only meant that he liked to listen to local bands too. I watched him surreptitiously out of the corner of my eye; like me he was alone, and a little apart from the crowd. He wasn't dressed in the ridiculous hipster fashions, looking more like Kurt Cobain than an American Apparel model.

From the clapping inside I assumed the next band was about to perform, so I flicked my cigarette away, and went back in. Within a few songs it was apparent this was a waste of my time, and the guy was still watching me. He was in the opposite side of the crowd, and I didn't make eye contact with him, but I could feel him. The discomfort I felt in the alley returned, and I wondered again if he had followed me. Between that and this ridiculous band raping my ears I decided it was time to go back outside. On my way out I asked the guy working the door if there would be another band later, and he shook his head, 'no'; definitely time to cut and run.

The alley was empty as I walked back to my car, but a few seconds later I heard the door open behind me, and footsteps. I didn't need to turn around, just glanced over my shoulder to confirm my suspicion. My expression stopped him in his tracks though, and he turned and walked off in the other direction. His behavior frightened me a little, but what frightened me more was the part of me that longed for him to follow. I got into my car a few minutes later and let out a deep sigh. I wasn't ready to go home yet, so I went to a small all-night diner not far away. The place was almost empty except for a couple guys working behind the counter, and a couple cops helping themselves to big plates of ham and eggs. I sat at a table farthest from them, and ordered a slice of cherry pie and a cup of coffee.

It took a couple hours and a couple of cups of coffee before I finally convinced myself that I was being both paranoid about him following me, and delusional about there being any kind of spark between us.

I rolled into bed just as the sun was coming up, but didn't sleep more than a few hours before I woke up. I wished the dreams would stop. I got up in frustration since I couldn't fall back to sleep and went downstairs to get a cup of tea. My dad was in his office working while Vera played on the floor next to him. I snuck back upstairs and after unpacking for a couple of hours Vera came tumbling in clutching a book in her hands. My dad wasn't far behind. "Can you read her a story while I get dinner ready, Vi?"

The little devil grinned up at me and I scooped her up in my arms. "Come on baby girl, let's go outside and read." Once we had settled down for dinner it was a few minutes before he started grilling me about what I had done the night before.

"So how was it last night?" He tried to keep his voice light, but I knew he disapproved. We had had a minor argument over me going the night before. He didn't like the idea of me going to downtown, alone, late at night.

"Okay. I missed the first band, the second was good, the last was so bad I left early." I said between mouthfuls.  
"If you left early why did you get home so late?" I looked at him solicitously. "Vera woke me up around 3, and after I got her back to sleep I checked and you weren't home yet."

"I guess early is relative." I shrugged. I really didn't want to have this argument. "I didn't leave there until after one, and then I stopped at an all-night diner to get something to eat."

"So what time did you get home?" He said a little testily.

"Before sunrise". Barely. His face was still disgruntled, but Vera helpfully distracted him by dropping her cup, and I decided to divert him further. "So who was that guy I ran into when I was leaving Thursday? A Patient?"

"Tall guy, about your age, blonde hair?" He asked, and I nodded in response. "Tate; yeah, he's one of my patients. You'll probably see him at school, I think he goes to Westfield too." Of course I'd be attracted to one of my dad's patients. Perfect. Just perfect. "Why do you ask?" and there was a suspicious note in his voice that made me nervous.

"I ran into him, like literally walked right into him on my way out. I felt like an idiot." With as paranoid as he's become I thought it best not to tell him I saw him again when I went out. Or that he followed me. Maybe. If he knew he'd be trying to file a restraining order first thing Monday morning. Either way my answer pacified him, and we had almost finished dinner when he spoke again.

"Vi, I'm really not comfortable with you going out so late, and by yourself in a strange city." Concern written all over his face.  
I tried to keep in mind he had my welfare at heart, but still it annoyed me. I set my knife and fork down, and looked him in the face. "Dad, I'm 18. I know you don't like that, but I'm not going to get younger. Secondly, you remember our deal? I agreed to flee Boston on the condition that as long as my grades are good you stay off my back about what I do."

"We didn't have to flee Boston." He sputtered.

"Yes we did." I said coldly, "and honestly after spending the last 18 months having to be paranoid because of that crazy bitch I'd like to relax. I don't want to look at people and wonder if they're going to kill me for the rest of my life." I got up and started clearing the table now that we were done eating. He didn't say anything further, but his face was full of pain. I felt guilty for snapping at him, so before I walked in the house I gave him a hug and said 'sorry'. It made him feel better, but it didn't change anything; I doubted I would ever be happy here.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday morning. First day at my new school; yeah, that's something I was looking forward to. I rummaged in the drawer of my nightstand and pulled out a bottle of Prozac I had stashed way in the back. I gulped one down with a big glass of water, and shoved the bottle in the bottom of my bag before I headed out the door.

As I expected the classes were pretty much the same as in Boston. The people were what I expected too; superficial and annoying, like walking into Less Than Zero. I had no desire to stay on campus through lunch so I drove around until I found a Vietnamese place a few blocks away. I was flipping idly through a magazine someone had left on the table, eating my lunch when Tate walked in. Our eyes met for the briefest moment, and then he went to the counter to order his lunch. Again, I had the feeling that the air was knocked out of me, and I was just on the point of leaving when he sat down opposite me.

"So why did you leave early the other night?" He said without preamble.

We stared at each other for a moment, each sizing the other up. There was something in his eyes that was different from when I had seen him a few days ago; guarded almost, like he was braced for me to say something harsh in reply. "Why did you follow me out?" I replied cautiously.

He shrugged, going for nonchalance and not quite making it. "I was curious."

"Why are you seeing my dad?"

"Don't ask questions you know the answers to, you're smarter than that." He snapped, his manner completely unguarded for just a moment.

His tone was unexpectedly harsh, and it threw me. I reached up to brush my hair aside and my sleeve slipped down showing a neat line of scars on my wrist. I dropped my hand under the table hastily, but he saw them. He didn't say anything, just pulled his sleeve up and laid his own wrist on the table, which, like mine, was covered in scars. He stared at me intently before he pulled the sleeve down, and started eating. "You didn't answer my question, why did you leave early the other night?" His tone softer now.

"Did you really think that band was worth staying for?" I asked skeptically, and he laughed. The wary discomfort melted, and we ended up spending the rest of lunch talking about music. I gave him a lift back to campus since he had walked there despite having a car. He didn't comment on my smoking, or the pills he saw me swallow, and I didn't feel the need to hide it from him. Chances were he was probably just as fucked up as I was, and really what was the worst he could do? Tell my dad? He'd probably be more upset I was having lunch with Tate than anything else.

At the end of the day a girl came up and spoke to me as I was putting some books back in my locker. "You're new here, right?"

"Yeah." I said distractedly.

"I know it's not my business, but I saw you with Tate Langdon today, and I thought I should tell you that he's dangerous."

Now she had my attention. "What do you mean?"

She was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, but wore a determined look. "He beat the crap out of a guy last year, like put him in the hospital he beat him so badly."

"Why?"

"The guy was making fun of his sister, and he just snapped. The rumor was he spent the rest of the year in the psych-ward."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Well, you're new here, so I thought I should warn you." She said nervously. Bullshit I thought. As she scurried off down the hall I decided to read his patient file the first chance I got.

When I got home, my dad was having a cup of coffee in the kitchen. "Hey, how was your first day?"

"Nothing new. Apparently it doesn't matter what coast you're on, high school sucks universally." I smiled at him. "Where's the little one?"

"At the park with the nanny. I'm just taking a break from working on my files, and then I've got a couple more sessions this afternoon. Did you make any friends?" He asked tentatively.

"What's the point, I'll just be leaving for college in a year." I thought it best not to mention lunch with Tate.

Later that night after everyone was asleep I snuck down to my dad's office, and tried the file cabinet only to find it locked. I shook my head, "Jeez dad, where's the trust?" I searched the desk, but the key wasn't there. I sat down and closed my eyes and tried to think. If I had to hide the key where would I put it? Not in the office. I decided my best bet would be his bedroom. It occurred to me though that he might keep the cabinet unlocked during the day. He probably wouldn't want to bother with unlocking it every time he needed to take a file out, or put one back, so I decided to try again during the day, and a few days later I was rewarded.

He had left it unlocked while he was outside playing with Vera. I filched Tate's file and practically ran to my room to read it.

Patient History: severely beat boy who had history of teasing disabled sister. Initial evaluation after event indicates drug abuse (cocaine), which may account for lack of impulse control. After brief stay in institution was ordered to complete anger management classes and therapy. Suspect physical abuse at home, but no concrete evidence. Awaiting blood panel results for possible chemical imbalance.  
In session has described fantasies of killing classmates, but not of those who have treated him badly. Instead fantasizes of killing people he likes in a type of mercy killing. Also has described penchant for ?blood letting? in the belief that doing so removes evil spirits from the body in line with Native American beliefs.

Patient is extremely intelligent, but anti-social, and often times emotionally unstable and/or depressed. Prescribed Lexapro in addition to talk therapy.

There were pages of what looked like transcripts of their sessions, but I didn't bother with them. I sat at my desk looking out the window without seeing the street below me. So the girl was right, he did beat the shit out of some guy last year. It probably should have bothered me, but it didn't. If someone had done that to Vera I would fucking disembowel them. Most people would, which is probably why he wasn't in jail right now. If my dad thought he was a real threat he would be legally obligated to call the police. That he hadn't done that meant he didn't see Tate's fantasies as anything other than that; disturbing definitely, but nothing more than fantasies. Lexapro was the only medication he prescribed, and it was just an anti-depressant.

I pulled myself out of my reverie, and replaced the file before it could be missed. I suppose it could have been worse, but even so I knew my dad would lose his shit if he knew I had been spending time with Tate, let alone that I was attracted to him. And I was attracted to him. Even though the contents of his file should have been a warning I couldn't help wanting to be around him because, amazingly, I was actually happy when I was with him. In this place I thought would be miserable I found someone who made me happy.

By Wednesday Tate and I had fallen into an easy routine of eating lunch together; we didn't have any classes together since I was in the Honors program, so it was the only chance we had to see each other during the day. Late that night I was sitting at my desk when pebbles started hitting the window in front of me. I pushed the thin curtain aside to see Tate on the sidewalk signaling me. It was almost midnight and everyone else was asleep, but I still went outside as quietly as I could.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered, "and what's with the dogs?" He was surrounded by a gaggle of little rat-like dogs.

"My mother breeds these things; useless little shits. Anyway, I live around the block and she has me walk them every night before I go to bed. I could see you in the window, and I wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Come some place with me tomorrow." He seemed nervous and fidgety, but then again so was I. I just hoped it wasn't because he was high.

"Don't you have a session with my dad?"

"I changed it to Friday."

"Where"

"My favorite place in L.A." He moved close to me, forcing me to look up to meet his eye. "Please Violet? I promise you'll enjoy it."

"Okay, but I'm driving." I could feel my stomach twist into a nervous knot.

"Perfect. I'll leave my car at home and walk to school tomorrow. We can leave right after classes." He smiled.

"I should get back inside. I'll see you tomorrow." I decided to take a risk, and gave him a swift peck on the cheek before I went back in the house.

* * *

He met me at my car at the end of the day, and we started off. After a while he picked up my iPod and started flipping through it. "Wow, you've got like a ridiculous amount of music."

I smiled. "That's what happens when you work in a record store."

"What's was that like?" He sounded a little impressed.

"Ever seen High Fidelity?"

"Yeah."

"Pretty much like that. It was nice though. I started working there a few years ago, and since I was young the guys kind of treated me like their little sister. I miss them a lot; working there kept me sane after my mom died."

"Your mom died?" He asked tentatively.

"Yeah." I looked at him, "She died giving birth to my sister, Vera." I hoped that would be enough to satisfy his curiosity. It was just too painful to go into details. Maybe he realized it was a sensitive subject because he let it drop.

We had been driving for a while when we crested a hill there was the pacific glistening to the horizon, Catalina clearly visible even though it was 20 miles off shore. Tate directed me to a park along the cliffs. Once we got out of the car he took my hand. "Are you opposed to doing something slightly illegal?" I shook my head.

He led me over to a low concrete wall, and helped me over. To our left was a chain-link fence with a 'No Trespassing' sign on it, but it was easy enough to slip around if you were careful since the ground protruded a few feet before dropping off to a cliff. He swung around and I followed suit. On the other side was a large expanse of land that had once contained houses and streets, the remnants of which could clearly be seen on the broken, jagged land. "What is this place" I asked.

"'The Sunken City'. In the 20's this land broke up and started falling into the ocean, and the city condemned it. Come on." He took my hand again, and led me around the fringe. "It's fenced off because it?s still falling; one day it will all be in the Pacific." He led me over to a stable part of the cliff, where a trail led down to a rocky beach. When we got to the bottom we walked to a small, sheltered cove, and as we sat down Tate said, "I come here sometimes. When the world feels like it's closing in and suffocating me."

"It's beautiful", I said, looking out at the expanse of ocean. "Thanks for bringing me here." We sat there for hours talking about anything and everything. For the first time in my life I willingly shed the emotional armor I wore and was stripped in front of another human, and so was he. He didn't judge me and I didn't judge him, but by the end of our talk there was trust and understanding between us that I had never had with anyone else.

It wasn't until a lull in the conversation that I realized we were physically mirroring our emotional intimacy; in the hours we spent talking we had moved closer and closer until our sides were pressed up against each other, and our heads were together as we talked. After a moment Tate leaned in and kissed me; softly at first, and then putting his arm around me and kissing me more forcefully. When he pulled away we were both breathing hard, and my heart was racing. "We should go before the sun goes down, otherwise we won't be able to find our way back." Those words hung with me the rest of the night. I wondered if they had more meaning than either of us realized.

When we got back to the car the sun was just setting. We decided to get some dinner on the way home, and we were almost there when he directed to me to a small ramshackle building so wildly different from its high-rise neighbors you couldn't miss it. "Best burgers in L.A." He said. There was a long line at the door, and only a single formica counter to eat at, but we didn't have to wait long for seats or our food; almost as soon as the order was placed our it arrived. It didn't disappoint. After a few minutes of eating in silence Tate asked why I was up all hours of the night.

"How did you know about that?" I asked wonderingly.

"Sometimes I see your light on when I get home late."

Like the smoking, the pills, and everything I'd revealed to him today I didn't feel the need to hide the truth. "I have insomnia, but lately it's been my dreams waking me up, and I can't get back to sleep." I saw the unspoken question on his face and explained, "Sometimes it's people chasing me or killing me; sometimes it's drowning, though there's always water in my dreams. The worst though are the ones with my mom; really gruesome stuff like finding her decomposed body." After a minute I added, "I thought I was done with them, but I don't know... the stress of the move or something is triggering them again."

"What does you dad say about them?"

"He doesn't. I don't talk to him about them. When you live with a shrink you try to keep some things private." Perhaps I said it a little harshly because on the way home he suggested dropping him off at the corner, so his mom didn't see us together and mention it to my dad.

"That's not what I meant you know, about keeping some thing private." I said before he got out.

"I know." And kissed me again before leaving.

When I walked in the door my dad was completely flipping out that I had disappeared all day without so much as a text message. Once I got him calmed down I went up to my room and laid on the bed, thinking. For the first time today I had shown someone all sides of me, even the darkness I had hidden from everyone else. Tate hadn't run away from it, he hadn't even judged me for it because it mirrored his own.

I wondered for a while if, in some unconscious way, that was what drew us together even before we'd said a word to each other. I fell asleep, and for the first time since arriving in L.A. 8 days before I slept peacefully. When I went out to my car the next morning there was a rose, painted black, under my windshield wiper.


	3. Chapter 3

I heard Tate arrive for his session on Friday afternoon, and couldn't help ease-dropping a little on my way back from the kitchen for a totally unnecessary, and unwanted cup of tea.

I could hear my dad saying, "What is important is if you're telling the truth about doing these things to your classmates, if you're actually a danger to society, the law says that I have to report you to the police", as I crept up to the door.

"Did you call them?" Nervousness ringing in Tate's voice.

"Not yet. I've treated psychotics before, people with the right combination of chemical imbalance and psychological damage that can't be reached."

"Do you think that's me? You think I can't get better?"

"You?" My dad scoffed, "You're hopeless. Everybody can get better Tate." His said firmly.

"I was afraid my big dick wouldn't work"

"What?" My dad laughed uncomfortably.

"Yeah, that's why I didn't take the med's" They both laughed. "Because I met someone." He said meaningfully.

I almost dropped the cup I was holding. All the thoughts I'd had of him when I couldn't sleep came swimming back. His cock inside of me; in my mouth tasting him, licking and teasing him. His body, naked and sweaty twisted into mine. Him biting me, scratching me, making me bleed, making me hurt, and making me scream in pain and pleasure. I lusted for it, for him because I could never share that with someone else. It would terrify a normal person. But that thought pulled me out of my reverie. What if it was too fucked up even for him? I looked at my watch; there was only 5 more minutes to their session, so I went back upstairs.

Later that night I woke out of blood soaked dreams. I knew it must be late, but it didn't matter. I grabbed the phone off my nightstand. "If you're up meet me out front. I need to talk to you" I texted before I slipped into jeans and a filmy jacket. When Tate ran around the corner 10 minutes later I was sitting on the trunk of my car smoking.

"What's wrong?" he panted, real anxiety in his voice.

I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into me, kissing him hard and long. After a minute my hand slipped down to feel his dick through his jeans. "I just needed to know if you were telling the truth in session today" I nipped at his lip.

He pulled back and something shifted in his eyes, like recognition, like there was something there in my eyes he saw in no one else's, but that he knew like an old friend. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me into him so that he could grind his cock into me as he possessed my mouth. He leaned into me, laying me down against the back of my car, and I wanted nothing more than to have him right there, and I might have done it too if a car hadn't rolled slowly past. I didn't even bother looking at it, just disentangled my hand from his hair and flipped them off for slowing down, and then I heard it, just one little blip of the siren. I let my head thunk into the rear window as Tate dropped his head on my shoulder in equal frustration. We pulled ourselves upright as the cop blitzed us with his flashlight.

"What are you two doing?" A voice behind the light said sternly.

"Nothing. Now." I loved fucking with cops. When done successfully it was like slapping the Devil and getting away with it.

"Do your parents know you're out here young lady?" The voice snapped.

"No." I said casually.

"Then maybe I should wake them up and tell them." He threatened. "I assume you live here?"

"I do and you could, and I'm sure my dad would completely flip his shit, but I'm 18 and it's not really his business what I do, is it?" I pulled a cigarette out and lit it. I could practically feel Tate shaking with silent laughter next to me.

"Both of you go home. Now!" And the light flicked off.

"Goodnight officer" and I flashed a brilliant smile. He sped off in a cloud of smoke and frustration.

Tate burst into laughter. "Well that kinda killed the mood. On the other hand you might be the coolest girl I've ever met." We shared the cigarette I had lit, and then went our separate ways. I didn't go back to sleep that night. After he left and I went back inside my lust flared again, and it needed to be satisfied.

When I met him for lunch the next day the first thing he did was grab me tightly and whisper in my ear "I couldn't get back to sleep last night; I stayed up thinking about you and touching myself. Did you do the same?" In response I stretched up on my toes and bit his neck and smiled at him. I was pretty sure most school saw us, and after that whenever we walked together across campus, before and after lunch, people melted out of our way like if they got too close our darkness it would infect them.

* * *

It was a few weeks later, and I had just dropped my dad and Vera off at LAX. They were going to visit my Aunt Jo in Florida over the weekend. Normally I would have joined them, but I convinced my dad I needed to study for midterms that started on Monday. It wasn't exactly true, but it wasn't exactly a lie either. It was true midterms did start on Monday. But I had other reasons too. For one Tate's 18th. birthday was on Saturday, and for another we still hadn't slept together and I was pretty sure it was killing me. The opportunity of having the house to myself for the weekend was too good to pass up; hence the bullshit to my dad about needing to study.

As I pulled in my driveway the headlights washed across Tate sitting on the steps to my house, and for a second I smiled, and then I saw his bloody, tear streaked face. I ran up to him, "Tate?" He looked slightly dazed. I crouched down and went to touch his face, but he winced and flinched away from me. "I'm not going to hurt you." I said quietly. His eyes finally focused on me, and he didn't flinch when I took his hands in mine, and led him into the house. I sat him down on my bed and ran to get the first aid kit. By the time I'd returned his tears had stopped, and I started dabbing what looked like scratches with disinfectant.

"What happened?"

He shook his head, "it doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. Did your mom do this?"

He was so shocked it took him a second to say, "how...?"

I sighed. If he flipped out on me, so be it. "I read your file. My dad suspects she's abusive." He didn't respond, but his silence said more than words would have. "If he sees this he'll call the cops; what are you going to do?"

"I'll just skip a few sessions, or tell him some bullshit story or something."

I finished up and set the bloody gauze aside. "Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked as I sat next to him.

"Will you just... stay with me for a while?" His voice was guarded like he expected me to refuse him.

I kicked my shoes off, and scooted to one side of the bed to lie down. "Come here." He laid so that we were facing each other, resting his hand lightly on my hip. I looked at his battered face and felt pity and anger, but also the distance between us. In some ways I would never understand the life he led. He saw the pain in my eyes and pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. We fell asleep that way, tangled together, each trying to disappear into the other.

It wasn't until later that I woke from a dream with a gasp to find Tate staring at me, the same look of recognition in his eyes that was there the other night. He leaned in and kissed me, his hands sliding up my back to pull me into him, as I hooked a leg over his hip to pull him closer. He whispered in my ear, "tell me what you want" before kissing my neck, one of his hands sliding down my hip to my thigh. I was suddenly nervous. What if I scared him away? But I wanted this so badly, and I trusted him so much that I took the chance.

"I want you to make me bleed". He had kissed his way along my collarbone to the hollow of my neck and at my words let out a moan. "I want you to make me hurt" I said as his hand found it's way under my skirt to the inside of my thigh, then up to my panties to rest there, kneading my sex through the cotton for a moment before he pushed it aside to slip a finger inside of me. "I want you to make me scream in pleasure and pain", I gasped out as he slipped another finger inside of me and started working them in and out.

"Fuck Violet, you're so wet" he rasped against my shoulder before biting me. He slipped his hand out of me, and trailed it, hot and sticky across my skin to cup my ass. He had flipped us over so I was straddling him, and slipped his hands under my shirt to lift it off when we heard it; the tinkle of glass breaking somewhere downstairs. Both of us looked at my bedroom door and froze. My face must have been a mask of fear when I looked back at him because he sat up and kissed me before whispering, "everything will be okay".

I roughly pulled my shirt back down, and hand in hand, we crept out my bedroom door and downstairs. I peeked in the kitchen and the backdoor was wide open, a pane of glass broken out of it. The room was empty; he silently pointed to where the portable phone was on the other side of the room, and I nodded, pulling my hand from his and started across the room while he moved down the hall towards the livingroom.

I was halfway across when I felt someone grab me and push me into the wall. The only thing I could see were insane eyes thickly rimmed in black eyeliner. Hayden. In an instant she had a knife to my throat pinning me against the wall. "Little nightingale bitch" she said in a harsh whisper, "where's daddy?" I spit in her face in response. She pressed the knife into my throat hard enough to draw blood. "Maybe I'll just kill you and wait for him to come home." And then, she wasn't there; I was so focused on her face I hadn't seen Tate creep up behind her. He pulled her roughly away from me, folded the arm holding the knife towards her, and slammed her into the wall next to me driving the knife right into her stomach.

She collapsed on the floor, and I stared at her in blank shock for a moment, and then all the fear I had felt turned to blind hate. I dropped to the floor next to her, grabbing the knife in one hand and putting my other around her throat. I looked right in her eyes when I asked Tate how long she'd take to bleed out. "10 minutes or so, but the paramedics will take at least 5 minutes to get here." He said coldly. After a moment he added, "It's an extremely painful wound."

I smiled down at her, and twisted the knife in my one hand while I choked her scream of pain in the other. "You stupid whore, he's never going to want you. I'm not going to kill you though. Don't get me wrong you might die before help gets here, but that's just because of your own stupidity." I leaned in close. "One day, while you're locked in jail or a psych ward he'll fall in love with someone. I want you to live with that knowledge every day." I looked up at Tate, "call 911".

Hayden fainted from blood loss just before we heard the sirens, but she was still alive when the paramedics rushed in. Tate had helped me up from the floor and sat me in one of the kitchen chairs. A thin sheet of blood was drying on my neck and chest from the gash the knife had caused, but it wasn't deep enough to need stitches. Once Hayden was bundled off to the hospital two detectives and a crime scene unit descended on the house. Luckily my dad had kept a file of all the paperwork for restraining orders and stuff against her, so that made the detective's job a lot easier. They took our statements as a matter of course and before they left assured me that Hayden would be kept hand-cuffed to her bed and under 24 hour guard at a local hospital until she was well enough to go to jail, so I didn't have anything to worry about.

After they left the crime scene unit was still there taking pictures and bagging evidence or whatever they do, so Tate and I stayed outside to keep out of their way. I was dreading the phone call I had to make. Finally, I asked one of the space-suited technicians if I could use the phone. They handed it out to me, and I lit a cigarette before dialing the number, pacing around as it ringed. My dad's cell went right to voice mail, and I hung up. "Shit." The phone displayed the time: 12:51AM. It would be almost 4AM there, and I'd have to wake up everyone.

I dialed my aunt's home line, and after 5 rings her groggy voice came on the line. "Aunt Jo? It's Vi, something's happened. I need to talk to my dad." I paced down to one end of the patio. "I'm not hurt. Can you please wake him up and put him on the line?" I paced back to the other end, then back to the middle where the table was to lean against it. Jesus Christ, my dad was going to have freak-out to end all freak-outs. "Dad? Look, don't panic okay? Hayden broke into the house tonight." I had to hold the phone away from my ear as he yelled. "Dad! No, I'm fine. Look she broke in looking for you. She had a knife, and" More yelling. "Shut up and let me finish!" I yelled back, my patience wearing thin. "She broke in the back door, and when I walked in the kitchen she grabbed me and held the knife to my throat. She didn't cut me deep enough need stitches, but Tate was here with me, and he pulled her off of me. I'm not sure how it happened, but they were fighting over the knife and she stabbed herself." At least that was the story we told the cops.

I had to come up with something on the fly to smooth over Tate being involved though. "He was here looking for you, and we got to talking. Honestly dad if he wasn't here I'd probably be dead." Not totally untrue. "Anyway, I called 911 and the cops and everyone showed up. She'll be in the hospital for a while, but they'll have her cuffed to the bed and then she'll go to jail. I gave them the file with all the stuff from Boston." Now he switched into dad-mode and I spent the next 20 minutes reassuring him that I was okay. He told me he was getting on the first flight he could, which I expected, and we'd be getting the best security system money could buy when he got back, which wasn't a bad idea.

Finally I hung up. "Why did you tell him I was here?" Tate asked.

"Because it would be stupid not to. Either the cops will call him later today or come by when he gets back to get more info on Hayden, and they would mention it, or he'd look at the police report. Better to tell him up-front and diffuse the situation. He didn't like it, but he'd like it a lot less if I didn't tell him. Besides, now you have a cover story." His expression clearly said 'huh?', so I elaborated. "Hayden did that to your face, didn't she?" and he immediately cottoned on, and smiled at me. "Fuck, could this day get any weirder?" I asked of no one, and we both laughed a little.


	4. Chapter 4

The crime scene guys left about an hour later, and soon as I closed the front door on them Tate was behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, kissing my neck; I could feel his hardness pressing into the cleft of my ass. Just then my phone rang. Oh, for fucks sake! Seriously! I picked it up, "What?", annoyance thick in my voice.

"Vi, the first flight I could get seats on arrives at 5PM your time." My dad was speaking so fast I didn't think he ever registered my tone. "I'll take the shuttle home from the airport and hopefully be back at the house no later than 6PM, okay?"

"Yeah, that's fine." I said after a minute. Tate and I were making our way back up to my bedroom, but it was a slow process because we couldn't keep our hands to ourselves. My dad started jabbering on about finding me a shrink to talk to about everything that happened. I wasn't really paying attention, and he must have realized that because he said my name several times before I noticed. "Huh?"

"Are you sure you're okay, Vi?" He asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I"m just getting in the shower and I set the phone down for a minute. Look dad, I'm covered in blood and I'm exhausted. I just want to take a shower and get some sleep, so can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"Of course" He said hastily. "I'm sorry you had to deal with this baby." His voice was full of regret. I bet he'd start crying when he got off the phone. "I'll talk to you later", he said, and hung up.

I dropped the phone on my dresser and pushed Tate up against the wall to kiss him, but he pulled away. "Please tell me you're not going to wash that off." He said looking down at my blood-covered chest. I just smiled at him, and before he knew it I popped him right in the nose with my fist; not hard enough to break it, just enough to make it bleed. He gasped, "Shit Violet!"

I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him down to me, "That depends. Are you going to lick it off?" I challenged. His lips met mine, and there was urgency, and need, and lust there. He grabbed me around the waist and slammed me painfully against the wall, and in one swift motion ripped my shirt apart from collar to waist and dropped it on the floor.

There was no way we were making it to the bed. Our lips were locked together as we ripped each others clothes off, what remained of them anyway. As he lifted me up I wrapped my legs around him, and he slammed into me. He wasn't lying; he was big. I could feel him forcing my walls apart so I could take him in; it was painful, but not unpleasant. I could taste the blood on his lips, sweet and tangy, smearing across my face as he kissed me. One of his hands reached up to claw the bloody fabric of my bra off, and the other gripped my hip painfully, bruising me.

All that tension, all those weeks of waiting, and everything that had happened tonight, exploded with the force of a bomb. He was breathing hard into my neck as he tongued the gash left by Hayden, but his force was unrelenting, and it left me moaning and clinging to him desperately. I knew I wasn't going to hang on much longer; the combination of the pleasure of him inside of me, and the pain of his hands and being forced into the wall was exquisite. He felt my walls twitching around him and dipped his head, biting into my shoulder hard enough to draw blood, and that did it. I came with a scream, and it pushed him over the edge too.

We collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. Losing myself in Tate, and embracing those parts of me that had scared me before made my whole flawed existence somehow perfect. Physically, I could feel the soreness, but inside I felt for the first time the sort of religious ecstasy that made men martyrs. I was so submerged in my emotions it took me some time to realize that Tate wasn't saying anything either, and then I remembered I punched him in the face, and maybe I had taken things too far. My head snapped up off his chest, "are you okay?" I asked.

There was an odd look on his face, almost reverential. He reached up and stroked my face gently with his hand. He didn't say anything, just laid there, tracing the planes of my face so lightly his fingers felt like feathers against my skin. Well at least he wasn't pissed at me. On the other hand the bare wood floor was both cold, and uncomfortable, so I grabbed Tate's hand and pulled him over to the bed. I didn't try to pull him out of his silence, but it was making me a little paranoid. My mind started racing with all the horrible things he could say when the silence eventually broke.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity he took a deep breath, then said quietly, "Vi, from the moment I met you I knew I had to be with you. Like it would be useless to fight against it because it was so inevitable. Like I was waiting for you without knowing it. I don't know... I'm not explaining it well."

Tate had a knack for being very honest, which I loved, but it sometimes bordered on being discomfiting. I felt the same way, but it was still hard to acknowledge it and make myself vulnerable, but I tried. I looked up into his eyes, and they still had that reverential look. "I know. It was like there was a connection there, a strong one, without having a reason to exist."

"Something like that. I guess I just never thought feeling this way would happen for me. I was so broken and damaged, that I thought I was incapable of feeling this, and that no one would ever feel it for me because of that."

That he thought that made me sad, and I reached up and placed my hand against his cheek. "Maybe it's because in some unconscious way we knew we were broken in the same ways. Like puzzle pieces that don't make sense on their own." I was musing, just talking out my thoughts. "Happy Birthday" I added.

"Thanks."

"Crazy woman not withstanding."

He scoffed. "Even with her it's still the best birthday I've ever had." He pressed me into his chest. "You were a little scary, you know?"

"Sorry."

"Don't be, it was hot." He said with a chuckle.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, but it hopefully won't happen again." I said dryly.

"No, it won't." His tone making it abundantly clear that he would never let that happen.

After a while my mind was starting to wander. I still had an aching need for him. Maybe it was just because it had been so long delayed, or because despite being the most satisfying sex of my life our first time hadn't lasted that long. Either way I wanted him again. I nuzzled my face into his neck and traced a fine line with my tongue up his to his ear, nipping it lightly with my teeth. I figured hitting him again, however well intentioned, might be pushing the limit.

His hands found my breasts, and he rolled my nipples between his fingers, making me arch my back and moan in pleasure. He pulled me on top of him and flicked his tongue across one of my nipples as his fingers slipped back inside of me. I was so lost in the pleasure of it that when he bit the soft underside of my breast I gasped in surprise and pain. He smiled up at me devilishly, and did it again.

It was different this time though. All the need, and want, and lust were still there, but the urgency was different; still there, but with the edge off of it. We knew we had all the time in the world because I wasn't going anywhere and neither was he. We mapped each other with our hands, and lips, and tongues; wallowing in each other because that was the best drug in the world. And it was learning too; learning the language of what the other wanted, and what they loved. He came inside of me again, and I loved the feeling of his hot stickiness filling me up. We fell asleep tangled together, wrapped in sheets that smelled of sweat, and blood, and sex, and my last thought before I drifted off was that I never wanted the warmth of his body, and the weight of his arms to leave me.

I didn't wake until noon, and the only reason I did was because I realized my bed was empty. I sat up and looked around; his clothes were gone. I called out for him, but I really didn't believe he was in the house. I probably would have dissolved into tears if I hadn't spotted a piece of paper, folded in half, under a razor on top of the nightstand next to me. I leaned back in the pillows as I read it:

You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving – I should be exquisitely miserable without the hope of soon seeing you … I have been astonished that Men could die Martyrs for religion – I have shudder'd at it – I shudder no more – I could be martyr'd for my Religion – Love is my religion – I could die for that – I could die for you." ~ John Keats to Fanny Brawne

I went to get coffee. Promise to be back soon. - Tate

I got up and took a shower. There were patches of black and blue all over, and bite marks on my shoulder and breasts to join them. I didn't notice the scratches on my back until they stung from the soap. I was sore too, but the heat of the water helped with that. I was sitting on my bed wrapped in a towel re-reading Tate's note when he walked in my bedroom with coffee. He set it on the nightstand and crawled across the bed to kiss my shoulder. He had changed clothes, and his hair was still damp. "I thought you just went to get coffee?" I asked.

"I swung by my place and caught a quick shower and change of clothes on the way. How long have you been up?" He was still on his hands and knees behind me, but the tone of his voice was off, and it made me turn and look at him.

"What?"

"Did I do all of this to you?" He was looking at me critically. I nodded and reached for a bottle of lotion I had set on the ground. "Did I hurt you?" and his voice was worried.

I turned back around. "Yes... well no... ugh, you know what I mean. You didn't go too far if that's what you're asking." His face was still a little troubled, so I touched his cheek, and he lifted his eyes to meet mine. "Don't be upset. Every time you hurt me it was as loving as a kiss. No one else will ever understand that but you and I, and that's all that matters." I gave him a quick kiss, and turned back to start rubbing lotion on my legs.

I felt him leave the bed, and in a second he was on his knees in front of me, pulling the lotion bottle from my hands. I let him take it, and after squeezing some out he started massaging it into my legs, working his way up, and parting the towel with his hands before lowering his head and caressing my sex with his tongue. I lay back on the bed, entwining my hands in his hair, enjoying the sensation. But I didn't want to come again, not yet anyway. I let out a breathless

"stop".

He glared at me, his eyes full of pain. "Am I only good if I hurt you? Is that the only reason you want me?" The hurt in his eyes reflected in his voice.

I took his hand and pulled him up off the ground to sit on the bed; roughly tugging his jeans and boxers down before kneeling in front of him. For the first time in my life I wanted to do this. Not that I hadn't gone down on guys before, but it was always just something they liked and you did, and were generally bored with. But I craved this; I had to have him in my mouth. His member twitched in the air between us in anticipation. I smiled up at him for a second and then took it in my mouth as he brushed the hair out of my face and held it in a loose knot at my neck. I worked my way up and down swirling my tongue, tasting every inch of him as he leaked into my mouth. Every now and then his breath would hitch and he'd slump towards me with a moan, leaking a little more. After a few minutes though it was his turn to say, "stop".

I pulled his shirt off as I rose up, and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me onto the bed. And then he was there between my legs, his calloused hands caressing me just as his tongue had. I whimpered with want, and felt the tip of his cock, soft and silky against my skin, lining up and then sinking into me. He was gentle this time, and that was what I wanted. How well we knew each others wants in such an unconscious way I couldn't explain, we just did.

Afterwards we didn't linger; we got dressed, and I stripped the bed. Much as I wanted to leave the sheets there I was pretty sure my dad would need to be sedated if he saw them in their current state. While I threw them in the washer Tate took the coffees outside and I met him out there a few minutes later. We shared a smoke as we lay in the hammock and drank our now tepid coffee. I let out a sigh, "you probably shouldn't be here when my dad gets back."

"You think so?" He asked lazily.

"I'm not sure. I guess he could go either way. On the one hand he might be so grateful after seeing me he doesn't question why you were here last night, or why you're still here. On the other he might demand an answer to those questions right away, and honestly I've got nothing."

"We could always tell him the truth, that we spent the night together." He said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I laughed. "Are you trying to kill him?"

He laughed with me, but it was short-lived. "Can I ask you something?" he said seriously. "What does it matter if he knows about us? We're both 18 after all."

I took a minute before I answered, "Because he's all I have left." I shook my head. "Maybe I'm over-protective, but you didn't see him after my mom died. I just don't want him to worry about me, and if we just dumped this on him he would. I'm not trying to hide this from him, I guess I'm hoping if we can ease him into it he'll take it better."

Tate was playing with my hair as he replied, "I can't understand that, but then I hate my parents; my stupid cocksucker mother, and my father who bailed on me. I could give a shit what they think of my life." He sighed. "But I don't want to make this hard for you, so if you want to ease him into it, that's what we'll do."

I rubbed my hand across his chest. "Thanks." We stayed that way for a while, just enjoying the nice day and lazing in the hammock. "Do you want to do something for your birthday tonight?"

"Yeah, do you have something in mind?"

"It's your birthday."

"I'll figure something out." He sat up. "Walk me out."

We got up and walked through the kitchen on the way to the front door. I completely forgot I had to clean up Hayden's blood; I wish those crime scene guys had left one of their space-suits. "You don't happen to have any tips on cleaning up blood, do you?" He just smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

My dad walked through the door at ten past 6, and his eyes immediately welled up with tears when he saw the cut on my neck. He hugged me tightly, momentarily inarticulate. Vera was looking very worried by the whole scene, and I took her in my arms as soon as I could extricate myself from my dad's grip.

She touched the cut on my neck, and looked at me with a sullen expression on her face. "Did you get hurt?"

I smiled at her, "Just a little. Do you want to kiss it better?" And she promptly planted a very sloppy toddler kiss on it. "Dad, one of the detectives needs to talk to you, he's waiting in the kitchen." I carried Vera to her playroom upstairs. As soon as I set her down she zoomed over to her toy box and started sifting through its contents intent on finding something.

About a half hour later my dad joined us, looking exhausted. "Just wanted to check a few details with me about the stuff from Boston; making sure everything is accurate before they hand it over to the D.A." He answered in response to my questioning glance. "How are you holding up?" I could tell from his tone he had been really worried about me, and I tried to reassure him.

"Honestly, I'm pretty okay." He looked at me skeptically. "I think it would have been worse if it had been some random burglar, you know?" Vera climbed up in my lap, favourite stuffed animal in tow. "I know you're not going to like hearing this, but if Tate hadn't been here I don't know what would have happened to me."

He let out an angry little huff. "Why was he here?"

I decided on the truth, or at least a mostly truth. "I took a break from studying to go get something to eat late last night, and when I got back he was on the front steps; he was really upset, and said he needed to talk to you."

"Did he say what was wrong?"

"I didn't ask." I said a little stiffly. I wondered if he was thinking about the abuse he suspected. "Anyway, long story short we got to talking about school and stuff, and as we were talking we heard glass breaking. We looked in the kitchen to find the door wide open, but there wasn't anyone in there, and I went to get the phone to call 911, and he went to look in the livingroom, I think. I don't know where she came from, but, well..." I looked down at Vera. I wasn't sure how much of this she was taking in, and I didn't want to scare her. "Did you read the report?" I asked.

"Yes, I did." Exhaustion still in his voice. "Apparently she hid just the other side of the dinning room door and grabbed you as you walked past."

I gave him a pleading look, a genuine one. "Dad I know you're unhappy about him being here, but honestly if he wasn't I don't think we'd be having this conversation." He seemed to deflate a little when he took in my words, so I decided now was the time to tell him my plans. "I told him that I'd take him out to dinner tonight as, you know, a 'thank you for saving my life' type of thing."

My dad tensed and was immediately alert. "No. Absolutely not. He's dangerous."

I had been ready for his reaction and didn't lose my temper. "First of all, if you really thought that you would have reported him to the police already. Secondly, if he wanted to hurt me he could have done it last night without anyone knowing." I let my words sink in before I continued. "I know you're feeling over-protective right now, and I understand why, but I also think you're being a little unfair here." I set Vera down on the floor, and crossed the room to give him a hug before going to get ready.

An hour later I met Tate out front. My dad gave us a very disgruntled look from the kitchen window, but otherwise didn't try to impose himself. Then again our greeting didn't give him anything to worry about either. "So what are we doing tonight?"

"That depends, how long do you think we have before he calls the cops?" He asked sarcastically.

"Midnight, maybe 1AM."

"Dinner and a movie then. Just drive towards Wilshire, I'll tell you were to turn." After a few minutes he asked, "How did he take it when you told him we were going out tonight?", curiosity coloring his voice.

"As I expected. He's not happy about it, but given the circumstances he didn't fight me on it. Either he's being over-protective and paranoid, or you really freaked him out in session."

"Well, I try." A note of badly suppressed glee in his voice. It turned out we were going to a small independent movie theater that was showing old horror movies in the run up to Halloween, and afterwards we went to a hole-in-the-wall Mexican place to get something to eat. It was very comfortable inside, the two guys working the grill were cheerily chatting away in Spanish, salsa music was playing low; it was just very relaxed and homey feeling.

When I walked through my front door a little after midnight my dad was waiting up for me. "See, all in one piece." I said sarcastically. "I brought home some leftovers if you're hungry?" He shook his head. I was surprised that he wasn't pissed at me, but maybe he was biding his time.

After that night I would usually find something stuck under the windshield wiper of my car in the morning. When it rained Tate left flowers, and when it was dry he'd leave notes.

* * *

This session with Dr. Harmon was going to be tough. At first I had taken him for someone, not dim-witted, but not the most observant person. That changed when he hit on my one actual fear, the one I was loathe to admit to myself, let alone anyone else; my fear of rejection.

But the problem remained. I had two warring desires: the first was to tell him about Violet and myself, and the second to keep Violet happy. I hated the thought, but a nasty little voice in my head kept saying, 'maybe she's ashamed of you, and maybe that's the reason she doesn't want her dad to know about you', despite her telling me otherwise. If I told him the truth it would make that awful thought go away. The only thing that stopped me from throwing my relationship with his daughter in the good doctor's face was the knowledge that it was a sure-fire way to get her to reject me.

The moment I saw that lunatic holding a knife to her throat I realized she's all I wanted, all I would ever want, and I couldn't give her a reason to run away from me because I wouldn't survive without her. She had whirled into my life as unexpectedly as a tornado, and upended it in much the same way; it frightened and delighted me all at the same time. But it shook my confidence too. I could detach myself emotionally from pretty much any situation, but I was incapable of doing that when it came to her, and I worried that if I lost my temper I'd lose my focus and do the thing that I didn't want to in a moment of spite or selfishness.

I reached Violet's front door, took a deep steadying breath, and knocked. Dr. Harmon answered the door looking very somber. Violet was still in the backyard with her sister; I had spent the last hour watching them from my attic window trying to burn that image on my brain so that I had something to grasp onto if I got angry. As soon as Dr. Harmon sat down across from me he asked, "Did Hayden do that to your face?" in a stiff manner.

"Yes." I said indifferently.

"Tate, Violet and I are very grateful for everything you've done for us, but you need to explain, here and now, what you were doing here that night."

I had expected this question, and decided on a version of truth. "I had a fight with my mom, and I was really upset. I came by looking for you; I don't know... I guess I hoped maybe we could just talk for a few minutes." I kept my voice a little forlorn. "Anyway, Violet drove up and we got to talking." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Tate, I'm very uncomfortable with you spending time with my daughter."

"Why?" Not quite keeping the angry edge out of my voice.

"In session you've talked about your desire to kill your classmates, and not the ones that have somehow wronged you, but people you like. Can't you understand why that would worry me?"

"You think I'd hurt her?" My voice was indignant. "I wasn't the one who was putting her in danger last weekend, was I?" My voice making it perfectly clear who was to blame for that. "If I wanted her dead I could have just let your whore kill her as I watched."

He looked like I punched him in the face, and stammered, "I just don't want Violet repeating my mistakes."

I took a moment to rein in my anger, but my voice was unequivocal. "I'm not like her. I'm here because I want help; I don't want to be a bad person, and I haven't had the visions in weeks." Since I met Violet. "You told me in our first session that everyone has these impulses sometimes, but what defines us is how we handle them. I haven't acted on them, ever. Can you say as much for that skank who held your daughter at knife-point?" I stood up, and calmly said, "Violet isn't a little girl anymore. If she wants to spend time with me, it's her choice." I was halfway to the door when Dr. Harmon spoke.

"Who's Thaddeus?" He asked with deadly calm.

I stopped in my tracks as fear washed over me. I turned to face him, "How do you know about that?", anger quickly replacing fear.

His face finally looked smug. "It doesn't matter how I know; I do, and that is enough. That in combination with what you've said in session... well it doesn't paint a pretty picture, does it? I would hate for Violet to find out." The threat apparent in every syllable.

He hit me right where it mattered most, and he knew it. I thought about how satisfying bashing his face in would be, but then I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of Violet laughing and chasing her sister around. Killing Dr. Harmon, which I would relish, wouldn't help. I opened my eyes, "Are you going to tell her?", I asked coldly.

"That depends." He said, totally at ease. "As I see it you have two options here: 1.) Stay away from Violet entirely - and no more weird shit like leaving stuff on her car - and this information stays strictly between us. Or, 2.) You don't stay away from her, and I'm forced to tell her. She's a smart girl, what do you think are the odds that she'll want anything to do with you?" There it was, my fear of rejection.

"She already knows why I'm seeing you in the first place." A look of surprise briefly crossed the Doctor's face. "It was the first question she asked me." Hopefully that would be enough to keep him from suspecting she had snooped in his files. "She still wants to be with me, so what makes you think this would be different?" But we both knew it was a bluff. He knew he had me from the moment he saw the fear on my face when he asked who Thaddeus was.

He crossed to the door and opened it pointedly. "She has a bright future; she'll be going to an Ivy League school this time next year, and where will you be? What possible future could you have with her?"

When I regained the sunlit street the voices in my head were screaming, warring with each other over what would be the right course of action. I needed time to think. I got in my car and drove the freeways around Los Angeles for hours. At first I couldn't help trying to devise a way of killing him without it being linked to me; it would simplify everything if he just weren't around anymore. And Violet wasn't alone anymore, she had me, but his well-chosen words had stung. Even if she did find out about my past and didn't care what was going to happen in the future? I felt the tears sliding down my cheeks, and decided to focus on the present.

Dr. Harmon had given me two options, but maybe there was a third. Thaddeus did actually exist. The cocksucker had me committed when I was a child because she thought I was the one wrecking the house and killing animals after she ran my father off. She told me I was going to a 'camp' where 'I'd learn to be a good boy'. Nobody believed me when I tried to tell them the truth, and when I was finally released from the institution she sent me to we had moved out of the house. I wasn't crazy, but being treated like I was had pushed me over the edge as a kid. When we moved back into the old house I sought Thaddeus out, but I was still the only living person that knew about him.

It didn't have to be that way. If I could tell Violet my story, and then show her the proof it would completely disarm Dr. Harmon. It would have to be done just right though. If I wasn't careful she'd be terrified. It would be risky, but it was true that she already knew what I said in session and didn't care, and that gave me hope. I drove around formulating a plan until it was late enough that the cocksucker and her cuckold would be asleep.

I walked around the block to Violet's. It was very late, and her light was off. I wished she were awake. I just needed to hold her close to me, feel her in my arms, and breathe in the scent of her hair and skin. It was a little like dying to have her so close and not being able to do it; I realized that could be my future, and it felt like I'd been stabbed in the heart. I pulled out a small, worn notepad from my pocket and after writing out my message, tucked it under the windshield wiper on Vi's car before taking a last look, and going home.

I have two luxuries to brood over in my walks, your loveliness, and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute.


	6. Chapter 6

I hadn't ease-dropped on Tate's session with my dad because I was worried I would lose my temper and storm in, and how was I supposed to explain that? No, I resolutely stayed outside with Vera while they talked. I heard the front door slam 15 minutes after he arrived, and was totally unsurprised by it. I turned towards the house to see my dad watching Vera and I from the window, and glared at him for a long moment before returning my attention to her. What I hadn't counted on was Tate's silence. I assumed we'd get to talk about it later that day, but he didn't return my calls, and though I watched for him I didn't see him walking his mother's dogs. I had no doubt who was to blame for this situation, and it didn't improve my temper. By midnight I knew I was so angry I'd never get to sleep, so I took an Ambien, and crashed out soon after that.

The next morning while I was drinking a cup of coffee before leaving my dad walked into the kitchen and gave me a wane smile; I just glared at him and watched the smile disappear. "What did he tell you?" he asked accusingly.

"Nothing." I snapped. "I haven't talked to him since noon yesterday." His expression turned very satisfied, and I saw my mistake. He wasn't biding his time in trying to convince me to stay away from Tate. He had decided to take the fight to enemy. It was stupid of me not to see it before. He picked up the morning paper to avoid my increasingly angry gaze.

I slammed my cup down on the counter so hard the remaining coffee sloshed out, and a neat fracture erupted from base to rim. He couldn't ignore that. "You're a hypocritical shit-head." I spat, and stormed out of the kitchen. I found Tate's note, but was so pissed off I didn't read it. The fact that he left it was enough to tell me his intentions. I was late getting to school, but as soon as I pulled in I saw him leaning against the trunk of his car waiting for me to arrive. I pulled up, rolled down my window, and curtly said, "Follow me" before I drove away to wait for him at the exit.

I was so angry that the traffic into downtown L.A. at 7:45AM left me chain smoking and screaming at commuters. By the time I pulled into the underground lot I was practically homicidal. Tate parked next to me and when he saw the expression on my face he was suddenly wary. I didn't say a word to him the entire time; up the elevator to ground level, into the building and up 4 stories. I finally spoke when we were deep in the stacks of the Los Angeles Public Library. It was an odd choice, but I needed privacy. This time of day the floor we were on was almost completely deserted, and there wasn't anyone within 100 feet or more of us. I sat down on a window ledge and faced Tate, who was leaning against the end of a bookshelf looking confused to say the least. Before I could get out a word he said, "Why are we here?"

We took a moment silently sizing each other up, the same as we had the first time we spoke. "What does he have on you?" I said coldly. He was clearly surprised. "It took me until this morning to figure it out, which was just fucking stupid of me, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

"You didn't answer my question." For the first time ever there was a note of evasion in his voice. Any other day I'd be up for this verbal sparring, but despite the fact that the edge had worn off my anger I was still in a towering temper, and right this second Tate was in the line of fire.

"What does he have on you?" I said firmly. He didn't answer, just stared back like a guilty child. After a minute I d had enough. "Fine. Call me when you're ready to talk." I made to leave and he grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

"No, Vi. Don't go." His voice was pleading. I sat back down, but held him in a penetrating gaze. He held my hand firmly in his. "I'm going to tell you a story. It's going to sound like total bullshit, but I'm not asking you to believe it, I just need you to trust me for a few days, and then I can prove it to you." I let out the breath I was holding without realizing it, and he sat on the floor opposite me, taking a minute to collect his thoughts before he spoke.

The story started 80 years ago, with the original builders of the house he lived in. He covered their tragic deaths, and what pushed them to it, about Dr. Charles' experiments. The timeline shifted to when he was a child living there. He explained about his imaginary friend and how it had landed him in a camp where he'd learn to be a good boy. The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable. He told me how he stubbornly tried to convince the doctors that it was his imaginary friend who was responsible for the bad things that happened, but they wouldn't believe him because they couldn't see Thaddeus. But he knew Thaddeus was real, and when he moved back in the house a few years ago, he had found him.

I sat down on the floor next to Tate. I was watching the window of the office building across for me, and sat in silence for some time before I asked, skepticism in my voice, "So it's a ghost?"

"I'm not sure" he said hesitantly. "He could be some sort of Frankenstein-like thing." He was watching my face nervously. "Vi, you're the only person I've never lied to, I want to keep it that way." I was still absently watching the window across from me. There was a portly man working on a computer. "Do you believe me?"

"No."

"Do you trust me?" A note of unease in his voice.

I didn't answer, just nestled myself closer to him, and took his hand in mine in response. A young woman had walked into the office with the portly businessman and set a cup of coffee on his desk before she stood in front of him and started undressing. "So he found out you were institutionalized as a kid?" he nodded. "And he threatened to tell me." It wasn't a question. The young woman was down to her underthings, which included garters and stockings, and was now slowly bobbing her head in the mans lap. "There's only one way this works, Tate."

I could feel him tense next to me. "How?"

"Total disclosure. You have to tell me everything, and I have to tell you everything. If this doesn't work he'll just try digging up something else. He might try it in reverse too; telling you things about me to push you away. Either way, he's not going to give up."

"What if... you hear things you don't want to hear, then what?" He was practically twitching with nervousness.

I took a moment considering that before I answered. "Remember that day at the beach a month ago? We told each other things that would make others run away screaming, and all it did was make us closer."

I felt him relax. "Fine, but we need someplace with more privacy." He started to get up, and as he did so I grabbed his crotch and smiled at him. Totally limp. He leaned into me and whispered, "fat business men and hookers don't get me off." And smiled back. As we left the building I was surprised as he steered me towards the street, and away from the elevators to the parking garage, but I didn't protest. We walked 6 blocks south; the scenery changing from respectable corporate facades to slightly seedier streets teaming with life. He pulled me into a half-hidden entryway, and without exchanging a word gave a small, mousy man behind a desk some cash, and got a key in return.

A few minutes later we walked into a small, sparse, but clean hotel room. Tate locked the door behind us and I crossed to the window taking in a birds-eye view of the street below. "Should I ask how you know about this place?" I said as I lit a cigarette and sat down on the windowsill.

"I used to come here a lot last year when I was using." He shrugged, as he pulled up a chair to sit in front of me. "They don't have hourly rates, and charge slightly more for a day than the neighbors, so the clientele isn't as seedy. Mostly they deal in privacy; cash only, no questions." He sat watching me for a few minutes before he sheepishly admitted he didn't know where to start.

"Start with the drugs" I prompted. So he did; we sat for hours telling each other our sins and our demons. Some of it pained me to hear, like the abuse his mother inflicted since childhood and continued to inflict. We didn't really shock each other though. As we talked I realized the key difference between us. He was just as angry and messed up as I was, but his solution to everything was violence, and mine was always information and manipulation. It wasn't until I told him the story of how I had set up a girl bullying me in school to be busted for prostitution that I saw him looking at me with wonder. The fact that she was also busted for drug possession when they checked her bag was an added bonus. The charges hadn't stuck of course, but it was enough for her parents to freak out and send her to a boarding school for troubled girls thus solving my problem. "Physically I can't compete with most people, so I had to come up with an alternative." I finished. After a few minutes silence I remembered something I meant to ask him. "Where did you disappear to yesterday, and why didn't you call me back?"

He got up and kicked his shoes off as he flopped on the bed. "I left my phone at home. After I left your house I just drove around until it got really late, trying to think of a solution to the problem."

"What did you come up with?"

"Telling you the truth, it was just figuring out how to do it without terrifying you that was tricky. It took me a while to get to that point though. At first I couldn't stop thinking about killing you dad. It would be so much easier without him interfering." I could tell he was anxiously awaiting my reaction.

"You didn't do it. You had the impulse, and you stopped it." I said indifferently. I wasn't surprised, or even bothered by it. It made perfect sense that that would be his natural reaction to the problem.

"Anyway, I saw your light was off, so I didn't bother calling you back. I wished you were up; I just needed to hold you. It felt a little like dying knowing you were so close and I couldn't touch you." I could see the pain in his face at the thought of it. "I just wanted to hold you one last time if it came to that." He almost choked out the last words.

A light rain had started, obscuring the street below. I got up and shed most of my clothes on the way to the bed. I laid on my stomach with my face towards Tate, and said "I'm not going anywhere." He reached out and pushed the hair out of my face before resting his hand on my back, it was rough with callouses and warm. I closed my eyes and felt him shift off the bed to strip down to his boxers. We hadn't slept together since that first night, and it had been all I could think about until everything blew up last night. Then he was back next to me his hands and lips caressing my back. For the time being I pushed everything else out and lost myself in his touch.

The roughness of his hands felt good against me, but it wasn't until I tried to roll over that he held me down and said "no" harshly into my ear. It made me smile. I relaxed into his force, and for a split second so did he, which was when I rammed my elbow into his side. He gasped, rolled off me, and laughed. I swung over and straddled him under me, grinding down on his cock as I dug my nails into his chest. Physically I was no match for him, but this was a game, and he held back. So we played like that; he added a bite mark to my hip to match the ones on my shoulder and breast before licking the blood off; I dug my nails into his thighs hard enough to draw blood when I had his cock in my mouth; my ass burned with the sting from his hand slapping me. We made each other gasp in pain, and moan in pleasure, sometimes at the same time.

It wasn't until a few hours after we finished that I woke up when he left the bed and padded to the bathroom silently. I could hear the rain coming down harder outside. I rolled over to dig my phone from my bag, and there was a searing pain in my hip as the sheet ripped off the wounds his teeth left, opening them up again. "Son of a bitch!" I gasped. I was going to have to invest in an industrial sized bottle of Neosporin at this rate. I was unsurprised to see I had a dozen missed calls and text messages starting from the time school would have finished. I didn't bother with the voice mail, just read through the texts: _What time will you be home?, Why didn't you answer your phone?, We need to talk ASAP, Where are you?_. They just got more hysterical as they went on.

"We don't have to leave." Tate was standing in the door to the bathroom watching me. "We have the room until tomorrow morning."

"Well we're going to have to leave at some point because I'm fucking starving." I smiled at him, and sent my dad a text. "I won't be home tonight. We'll talk tomorrow. Don't bother calling I'm turning my phone off." Tate looked euphoric, like a kid set loose in a candy store.

"I'll get my car, and we'll go get dinner. Figure out what you want to do afterwards." He kissed me forcefully, and I tried to pull him back to bed, but he pulled away with a big, goofy smile on his face, and I couldn't help being infected with his happiness. We had dinner at the same all-night diner I went to after that night at the club, and after a while decided to go back to it. I scored some pot off a guy in the alley, and rolled it in the bathroom, which was almost as bad as the one in Trainspotting. We sat in a dark corner at the back smoking it and laughing as the crowd heckled the band on stage; it made suffering through their awful set worthwhile.

The next band was okay, but afterwards we went out to the freezing alley to cool off. We were apart from the crowd, and as they started making their way back inside for the last band Tate leaned in and kissed me. He went to pull away, but I held him to me. The kisses turned from affectionate to heady and intoxicating, but maybe that was just the pot.

I dragged him into a deep doorway further down the alley, and loosened his belt, shoving my hand in so I could stroke him. "Here, really?" His voice a little disbelieving. I said "Yeah" a little breathlessly in reply, and undid the button and zipper on his jeans; luckily I'd worn a skirt. Like he did that night in my bedroom he hoisted me up and pressed me into the wall. I felt his hand shove my panties aside and he slipped inside of me. The brick wall was uncomfortable against my back, but the thrill at the possibility of being caught worked like an aphrodisiac. He matched my every moan and shudder, and as he pushed me harder against the wall as his hand slipped between us to massage my clit, and we came together.

He set me down gently. "Do you want to go back inside?" he asked a little out of breath.

"Not really. Let's go back to the hotel." If he wanted to go back inside he didn't argue about it, just flung an arm over my shoulders, pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and led the way back to the car. We smoked the rest of the pot and fell asleep early in the morning in a state of bliss.

I woke up to a weak winter sun shining in my eyes. Tate was already up, and had been entertaining himself by watching me. "Bad dreams?"

"No. I'm not sure I dreamed at all actually. How much time do we have before they throw us out?" I said sleepily.

"Couple of hours."

"Good." And I pulled him back on top of me. When he rolled off of me sometime later, he muttered "You're going to kill me with this, you know?"

"Really? You're complaining that I want to have sex too much?" A roguish smile played on my lips. He had rolled over on his stomach and was laughing at me, so I smacked him on the ass and said, "I'm getting in the shower. Can't go home stinking of sex and pot." And bounded off.

I had just started soaping myself up under the hot water when he climbed in with me and pulled the soap from my hand. His hands were gentle as he washed me; caressing me all over. It wasn't something that was leading us anywhere, it was just incredibly pleasurable on it's own. I did the same for him, and then we got out and got dressed. We turned the key in at the desk, and he dropped me at the library so I could collect my car. I was surprised to see him follow me almost all the way home.

I knew I was walking into a hornet's nest, and I really didn't give a fuck. As happy as I was in the last 24 hours I was still monumentally pissed off, and I was ready to take it out on the person who deserved it. I didn't try to sneak in the house, just walked right through the door and into my dad's office where he was waiting. As soon as he saw me he started yelling. "Where the hell have you been Violet! You didn't go to school, and then after trying to get you on the phone all afternoon I get a text saying you're not coming home and you're turning your phone off?" He was livid, and it made me euphoric with rage. "Tell me you haven't been with Tate this whole time."

I smiled at him. "Actually I have." His face turned ashen, and he looked like he was going to be sick, but he regained his composure quickly.

"Violet" He grabbed a folder off his desk. "I need you to read this." He held it out to me.

"Is that the report from when he was institutionalized as a kid? I know about. I also know why he's seeing you to begin with." I gave him a quick rundown of what the file contained just to prove my point. He looked like he'd been sucker punched. "I know you're not going to give up on trying to convince me he's bad for me, and maybe even vice-verse, so here's the deal: it's not going to happen."

I turned on my heal and was almost to the door when he said "What about your future? You plans? How does Tate fit into that?"

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?" I said coldly, and walked out. Game over asshole clearly conveyed across the thought-space between us.


	7. Chapter 7

It was pouring rain outside, but in my room, under the blankets with Vi it was so peaceful; the only peace I'd ever known in this house. The cocksucker, Larry, and Addie were away until late tonight at some business bullshit of his. They had wanted me to come, but I didn't even bother responding when they banged on my door this morning. Violet would be leaving for Boston with her dad and sister to spend the Christmas holiday, so we wouldn't be seeing each other for ten days, and there was no way I was going to spend the last day I could see her before she left play-acting the happy family with them. Ten days seemed such a long time too; my stomach twisted into knots every time I thought about it, but she was really happy, and I tried to keep that in mind.

I was surprised that Violet came into the house at all, but it didn't seem to bother her. After I had lured Thaddeus out of the shadows with a raw, bloody steak she hadn't screamed or fainted, but it was the only time I ever saw her scared; she couldn't stop shaking for hours. When she finally did she had refused to talk about it at all. Occasionally she's throw the basement door a wary glance on her way in, but otherwise she seemed perfectly at ease.

My mind was drifting, thinking about watching her play with her sister from the attic window; she was so kind to her. I couldn't help thinking about her chasing around children of our own, and scooping them up in her arms and loving them just like she did with Vera. Violet was next to me reading a book, and my hand slipped unconsciously to rest on her stomach. "Do you ever think about having kids?" I asked before I could stop myself. She turned her head to look at me. "Someday maybe". She said vaguely. "After Vera I know how much work they are." And she turned back to her book.

She was increasingly vague every time I mentioned the future lately. It was the one thing we couldn't talk about, and it worried me. There was a niggling little voice in the back of my head that was hoping she would get pregnant; just a "happy accident". I just wanted something to bind us together, and the more vague she about the future the harder it got to shut those thoughts out. It was even harder to block out the thought that maybe she didn't want me in the same way that I wanted her; maybe she didn't want forever. I tried to focus on her warmth next to me, and the smoothness of her skin where our legs touched. Anything to distract myself from the poisonous thoughts in my head.

The doorbell rang and I pulled some pants on and ran downstairs to get the pizza we ordered. When I got back to the bedroom Violet was sitting on the bed with her head in her hands looking shaken. "Vi?" I asked gently from the door. She practically came out of her skin. "Are you okay?" She said she was fine, just got a bad headache all of the sudden. But she seemed distracted the rest of the day, and her demeanor was cold when I kissed her goodbye. Something had ruined our last day together before she left. I lay in bed, feeling the anger building up inside; it must have been something I'd done. I got up and pulled a dull razor from a box in one of my drawers and dug it into my skin over and over again.

* * *

No one was home when I walked through the door late that evening. I was soaked to the bone after walking back from Tate's in the pouring rain, but I barely noticed it. I immediately went into my dad's study and tried the file cabinet. It was locked, so I ran upstairs and started rifling around his room until I found a set of small keys on a ring hidden between his mattress and box spring of his bed. I didn't know how long I had, so I whipped his file out, locked the cabinet, and put the keys back.

After debating for a few minutes I changed into dry clothes, shoved the file in my bag, and left a quick note to my dad saying I'd be home later later before driving up to Pasadena to sit in an unfamiliar coffee shop and read it undisturbed.

I prepare for the noble war...

I closed the file several hours later after reading every single page. This was bad. I thought about the boxes of guns I had inadvertently found under Tate's bed when I dropped my book on the floor. Fantasies were one thing, but this was different; this was action, preparation. I had accepted that he could be violent. I knew his history, and I knew why he was in therapy. It shouldn't have surprised me to see those guns, but it did. My phone suddenly buzzed with a text reminding I still hadn't packed and we'd be leaving in a few hours.

I crashed out on the plane, and woke up in Boston bleary-eyed and dazed. We had to do the family merry-go-round, but as soon as I could I took off to see my friends from the record store; since my mom died they were the family I could turn to. We met up at a coffee shop in South End not far from my Uncle's house, and spent hours abusing each others current music choices, to say nothing of the fair amount of shit I took for living in L.A. It wasn't until Charlie and his wife Lisa were walking me home that the subject of Tate came up. "Who called you? You looked like you'd seen a ghost." Charlie asked.

"Tate. Something happened last night, right before I left L.A."

"Something bad, I take it."

"Yeah. You know I told you he was one of my dad's patients? Well the reason is that he has fantasies of going on a shooting rampage at our school." I saw Charlie and Lisa exchange a glance.

"And you just found this out?" Worry coloring his tone.

"No, I've known that pretty much from the first time I met him." He opened his mouth to say something undoubtedly concerned, but I held up a hand to stop him. "I know. I know I sound crazy for ignoring it." Defeat in my voice. "But you don't understand. Tate and I... it's hard to explain. From the moment I saw him it was done. He was all I wanted, and vice-verse. We're both just fucked up kids, and I know you'll say there will be other guys in the future, but save it. I need him like a fucking drug, and whatever comes in the future will only ever be a shadow of that."

Lisa put an arm around my shoulder. "Calm down Vi. If you've known all this what happened?" She said soothingly.

"I accepted that he's had a troubled past, and has troubled thoughts, and everything, okay? But when I was at his house I looked under his bed and found a whole stash of guns." I caught their expressions. "Yeah. That's only half of what's bothering me though." And I quickly explained about my dad's attempt to separate us, and how we were supposed to have total honesty with each other. "He didn't lie to me, but he didn't tell me about it either, and right now I'm feeling really betrayed over it. I had this huge fight with my dad over him, and it's just a fucking mess."

"Do you think he'd hurt you?" Charlie asked.

"No. I don't know... maybe. In his fantasy he doesn't shoot the people that have been mean to him, but the ones that he likes; sort of like a mercy killing. Right now though I'm more worried that he'd actually go through with it than him hurting me. I mean judging from his little collection he's definitely planned for it."

We reached my Uncle's house, and Lisa slid her hand down to hold mine. "We'll see you again before you go. Violet, you're a smart girl; you've always found solutions to your problems, and I know you will with this one too." Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. "You can always come talk to us if you need to. Even if you just need a break from your family, come by the shop for a while." Lisa kissed me on the cheek and they walked off towards the subway. I watched them go with regret. I really missed my surrogate family, and right now I felt like my best option was just to refuse to get back on the plane and stay here forever.

As the days passed I continued to avoid Tate's calls, and was spending increasing amounts of time at the shop. Since I couldn't talk to my dad about it - he'd be on the phone to the cops in a minute and Tate would be in a psych ward within hours - Charlie and Lisa bore the brunt of my brooding. The day before I left I was especially forlorn, and in between customers Lisa asked if I'd come up with a solution to my problems. "No. I'm really good at manipulating information, like I did with that girl who was bullying me, but this is different. It requires direct action, and that's limiting, or at least my inexperience with it is limiting my imagination." My frustration seeping through by the end.

"What are you going to do when you get home? You go to the same school, and live close by each other, so how's that going to work? Have you even talked to him since you left?"

"A few times, but I made excuses to get off the phone quickly. I can tell from his voice that he's pretty upset right now, but what am I supposed to do? Say 'oh by the way I found your stockpile, you want to explain that?'" I said sarcastically before putting my head in my hands.

"Well, yeah." Her voice clearly said _duh_. "Why not talk to him about it. I mean you can't avoid him forever."

"It's not talking to him I'm worried about, it's the answers I'll get. Sometimes ignorance isn't bliss, but it's better than the alternative."

As soon as we got back to L.A. I dropped my bags in my room and went grab my car keys when I saw a letter on my bed. I didn't even stop to wonder how he got into the house with the new security system.

Violet,  
Something's changed in you, toward me. You're cold, and distant. I don't know what I've done, but I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone from now on if that's what you want. Is that what you want? You know why I'd leave you alone? Because I care about your feelings more than mine. I love you. I would never let anybody, or anything hurt you. I've never felt that way about anyone, but you've changed me. Please forgive me.  
I love you so much more than you know - Tate

By the time I finished I could feel the tears flowing down my face. How could I tell him that what was hurting me right now was him? And even through the hurt that I loved him too? I wiped my tears away, and drove to the beach, the letter clutched in my hand. I sat in my car smoking until well after midnight hoping for some sort of resolution, but mostly just feeling like shit. When I got home I added fresh cuts borne of pain and frustration to my arms.

When I still couldn't sleep hours later I crept downstairs to get some water. I was standing in the dark kitchen when I saw Tate on the sidewalk looking up at my window. He looked as awful as I felt. As I watched him I tried to convince myself he couldn't do all the terrible things he thought about, but when he walked away I dumped the water in the sink and replaced it with vodka.

The next two days I spent locked in my room. Monday was a new torture though. As I walked between classes I could feel Tate there, haunting my every move, even when I couldn't see him. His face was pained, then confused, then angry, and then filled with pain again; oddly colorless, almost transparent with the lack of masking his emotions. I couldn't focus on anything. I tried to do all the things I should be doing - taking notes, being "involved" - but all I could think about was his face. I didn't know I had the capacity to feel pain like this. I felt flayed open, raw; I was tied to the stake and burning from the inside. By third period I had to get out of there before I collapsed screaming hoping for some sort of relief from the pain of being so close, and yet unable to bridge the gulf that had developed between us.

I drove home in a daze; muttered something to my dad about not feeling well, and collapsed on my bed. I was too trapped in the pain to do anything other than curl into a ball under my covers. I stayed home for four days, barely eating or sleeping. Wondering how the pain hadn't crushed me, melted me out of existence yet. How it was made worse by his frightful silence, because true to his word he'd left me alone. It was dark outside when my dad came quietly into my room and set a cup of tea of my nightstand. I felt the bed sink as he sat down next to me, and rested a hand on my shoulder. "Violet?" He shook my lightly.

"I brought you some tea. Are you feeling better?"

I pulled myself up, and reached for it. "No."

I could feel his worry rolling off him in waves. "Vi, I want you to see a doctor. I've never seen you this bad, even after your mom died."

"I had to be strong then, for you." I said quietly. "I couldn't let you see how bad it was."

He pulled the cup out of my hands and set it down before wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry I have to ask you this Vi, but Tate missed his appointment today. Should I be worried?" He felt my body go rigid. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "But he's still my patient, and you know him better than anyone." There was no triumph in his voice. Tate and I being apart was now a hollow victory for him.

"Why are you so concerned about him now? I know what goes on in your sessions; the two of you sniping at each other once a week can hardly be therapeutic." I snapped.

"I don't know what he's told you Vi -"

"He hasn't told me anything." Anger flooding my voice. "But I'm not stupid, and I'm not deaf."

"You've been listening?"

"What do you think?" He was stunned into silence. "He's fine. You don't have to worry about being blamed for anything he's done."

"Are you hungry?" He asked timidly. "I could bring you something up on a tray if you don't want to come downstairs?" He was trying to keep his voice light, but the strain was apparent.

"The tea is enough." He sensed the dismissal, and kissed me on the forehead before leaving. I lay there for a long time, perfectly still, trying to calm myself.

He might have avoided his appointment today to give my space, or to avoid my dad gloating, or any number of reasons. It was all bullshit; I knew what was coming, could feel it in the air around me. I reached under my bed and pulled a fresh pack of cigarettes from the carton, and opened my window to the harsh cold of the night air. I waited, hoping I was wrong, and knowing I wasn't; my stomach a tense knot, my body shaking from the stress. When 1AM rolled around and I still hadn't seen him the guilt of that much blood on my hands, even indirectly, pushed me to action.

I flicked my bathroom light on, and for the first time in days looked in the mirror to find a blank shell of a person staring back. Something my mom said came floating back "The thing is when you fall in love, it's kinda like you go crazy. Before you know it the whole world is different, and then you'd do anything for the other person." So true, mom. I cleaned myself up as best I could, and silently left my house to walk around the block.

When I reached his house I could see light behind the curtains of his window. Even having to throw the pebble in my hand from the sidewalk I could hit it, but I dropped the stone to the ground, and climbed over the locked gate. I crept to the side door, and pulled out the key they kept hidden under a flowerpot and let myself in; feeling short burst of relief that Tate's door was unlocked. I slipped though as quietly as I could, the lock setting no louder than a whisper when I twisted it.

When I faced the room it struck me that it was unnaturally tidy. Everything was in its place, and the bed was perfectly made. Even the mirror on the desk, perfectly centered on it's top, had neat little lines of white powder. He was sitting on the bed, facing away from me, twitching and muttering. The air between us felt heavy, thick. I caught some of his words, something about a forest and being scraped up off his knees. As I walked up I said his name quietly, but he didn't seem to be aware of my presence. It wasn't until I was a few feet behind him, flush with the end of his bed, that I reached out and touched his shoulder.

His back heaved with a sob, and he whipped around and grabbed me by the throat, slamming me into the mattress; straddling me, knocked the wind out of me. My hands grabbed his arm, but otherwise I didn't fight, too lost in the darkness of his eyes to offer any resistance. For the first time I felt how fragile and small I was, how tenuous this grasp on life we have is. I tried fruitlessly to draw a breath as stars popped in my field of vision, but all I could see was his beautiful face twisted into a mask I didn't recognize. My last thought before the darkness enveloped me was how terrible, and beautiful, and right it was that he should be the one to drain the life from me.


	8. Chapter 8

I woke up to almost complete darkness. There were no lights in the room I was in, and the curtains dulled the light from the streetlights. I was disoriented for a moment; aware I wasn't in my bed, but not knowing where I was. I moved to sit up and my hand squished into a puddle of something wet and sticky. That s when I looked over and saw Tate next to me, perfectly still, deep cuts sliced into his arms, and blood seeping into the blankets. I tried to say his name, but my throat was hoarse and painful; that s when everything came rushing back.

I didn't even stop to think, just pulled myself over Tate to flip on the light. He was still breathing, but unconscious. I grabbed his phone off his desk and dialed 911 and tried to keep him from losing any more blood. As I heard the sirens nearing I made for the door, stopping only to shove the mirror into a desk drawer and grabbing the note next to it, tucking it into the waist of my tights. By the time the medics and I were clamoring up the stairs his family was awake; his mother shrieking her head off. I watched from the corner of his room as they worked on him, barely able to call and tell my dad what happened.

As they were loading Tate into the ambulance my dad walked up and grabbed my by the shoulders, demanding to know what was going on. Constance was standing a few feet away, clearly listening to our conversation, so I lied a little. "I was worried when you told me he missed his appointment. I tried calling, but he didn't answer, so I came over. I saw the light was on, but I still couldn't rouse him, so I went in through the basement door and found him on his bed with his arms sliced open."

"You broke into my house -" His mother started angrily.

Before my dad could stop me I leaned around him and snapped, "Would you rather he died?" She probably did, but didn't dare say it in front of half the neighborhood.

My dad stepped between us. "Mrs. Langdon your son needs you now. You need to go to the hospital. I will meet you there in a little while, and we can discuss Violet's behavior then." He said firmly. She looked at him stonily, but allowed herself to be ushered into the house by Larry for a change of clothes. My dad put a protective arm around my shoulders and said, "Come on Vi". Just as we reached our house a car sped by with Tate's family on the way to the hospital. Perfect; I needed to get back in that house immediately. My dad saw me watching the car, and said, "I just need to grab a few things, and I'll follow them. I'd bring you with me, but I need you to wait for the nanny, and maybe it's best if you let Tate's mom cool off before she runs into you."

"That crazy bitch shouldn't be anywhere near him. She'll probably be smacking him around for embarrassing her as soon as he's awake."

He stopped with his foot comically raised in mid-air. "You've seen her hit him?"

"No. When I got home from dropping you off at the airport the night Hayden broke in I found him on our porch crying and bloody. When he finally calmed down he didn't want you to know; I doubt he'll admit it to you even now. He told me she's been doing it for years, but that's the only time I've seen evidence of it." I could see the anger building in his face; after having abusive parents himself it was a bit of a touchy subject. "Go to the hospital dad, I'll see you there once the nanny takes over."

Once he was gone I repeated the same route I'd taken hours earlier, breaking into Tate's house for a second time. I tried not to look at the bloodstains on the bed as I collected all the guns into a duffel bag; after a quick search I found his stash of drugs, and took those too. Twenty minutes later I was back at my house, and the duffel bag was safely hidden in my closet. My dad called not long after to tell me Tate would be okay, but he'd been sedated so there was no point in me coming to the hospital.

As soon as the nanny arrived I decided to take a shower, if only to wash Tate s blood off me. It was the first time I'd had a chance to look at myself in the mirror since before Tate attacked me. I was surprised that I only had very light bruises just behind my ears; my neck felt weird though, like I had a sore throat. There were a few spots of broken capillaries in my eyelids, but otherwise I was physically okay. As I stood there though an intense mental exhaustion overtook me and it was all I could do to force myself to shower and fall into bed.

I didn't wake up until noon when my dad came home. "Any news?" I asked as he sat on bed.

He gave me a sharp look. "He's still sedated. The blood chemistry showed he was off his medication and had been doing coke heavily for a few days at least. Violet, I need you to tell me what happened last night. All of it."

I leaned back against my pillows and lit a cigarette, totally ignoring his disapproving look. "Fine. After you left last night I got worried, so I went over to his house and snuck in. When I found him he was sitting on his bed, completely out of his mind on coke. I don't know if he really knew I was there. I reached out and touched his shoulder and he flipped out and strangled me until I was unconscious." I glared at him, challenging him to react angrily, but he barely noticed me.

"So he was muttering on the bed, totally unaware you were there?" His eyes were unfocused, like he was enjoying the intellectual puzzle in front of him. "It sounds like he had a psychotic break; the combination of stress, drugs, and lack of proper medication over several days." His voice had a faraway quality, more like he was talking to himself than me.

"Great... just great. I pushed him over the edge and he snapped."

My dad seemed to suddenly remember I was there. "This isn't your fault Violet." He said firmly.

"How is this not my fault?" Barely keeping myself from yelling the words. "I abandoned him, and he was so upset he had a psychotic break! What if he had fulfilled his fantasy of killing a bunch of our classmates? You think I could live with that much blood on my hands? Would you still tell me it wasn't my fault then?" I didn't want to admit to him how narrow a miss that actually was.

"Violet, calm down, you're being hysterical."

I shot him an angry glare, but took a deep, calming breath. "I'm not saying it's all my fault, but you can't deny my behavior didn't contribute to it."

He looked like he really wanted to argue that point with me, but instead changed tactics. "This is why I worry about you and Tate. He almost killed you, what if he has another break and it happens again? Do you think you'd be lucky enough to survive a second time?"  
I hated to admit it, but he had a point. "I know dad, but you don't get to pick who you fall in love with."

"That doesn't mean you have to sacrifice yourself to it either." After a moment he asked, "Do you know why he tried to kill himself, or you? Did he say anything... leave a note?"

I thought of the letter he left on his desk that was now tucked under my pillows. "He didn't say anything, and by the time I came around he was unconscious." Thankfully he'd avoided asking what the problem was between us, and I wanted to keep as much distance as possible between him and that question. "So what happens now?"

"They won't release him until the hospital psychiatrist gives the okay. We'll up his sessions to twice a week for a while, maybe change his medications. If he can't be honest with me in session though I'll send him to someone else. If you two aren't seeing each other it might just be better all-around if someone else treats him anyway."

Once he left I reached under the pillow next to me and pulled out the note Tate left on his desk. The paper felt odd under my fingers, like it was covered in braille. When I unfolded it I saw why; he had pressed his pen into it with such force it was more like etching than writing.

_I wanted to take them some place clean and kind, away from the filthy horror show of this world. Away from the shit, and piss, and vomit that runs in the streets. She would have been the first one, the most important; her salvation paramount. And I would have followed her in it eventually. But I couldn't stop myself before it was too late, and now she's trapped here, and I won't leave her alone and unloved. She needs someone to love her and protect her, to take care of her. I wanted to live for her, and now all I can do is die for her. Maybe someday she'll love me again, but even if she doesn't I won t leave her alone here; it's not right._

* * *

I could hear voices, beeps, feet scuffing across the floor. They were mixed in with images of Violet; her laughing; her far away from me looking pained; moaning in pleasure; with hands around her neck, body limp. I could feel her skin against my face; I nuzzled into it feeling how soft and warm it was. Then I remembered she didn't want me anymore, and choked out a sob.

"Tate?"

The voice was unexpected. I opened my eyes to a bright sunlit hospital room, Dr. Harmon sitting on a chair next to the bed I was lying in. I took it in, trying to figure out why I was here. The last memory I had was doing lines of coke in my bedroom late at night. "What happened? Why am I here? Did I overdose or something?" I was groggy, my voice slightly slurring over the words.

"You tried to kill yourself." He pointed to my arms, and I looked down to find them bandaged. "After you tried to kill Violet." I flashed on the image of her limp body with hands around her throat, and it felt like the world collapsed around me, my mind an incomprehensible mess of emotions. I could hear, very far off, a horrible keening, like a wounded animal. It took me a long time to realize I was the one making the sound.

"Is she okay?" I managed to choke out.

"She's fine."

"Why did she save me?" I asked miserably. "I hurt her; she should have just let me die. I deserved to die." My only light in all this darkness, and I tried to kill her. I was no better than the cocksucker. It felt like there was a monster tearing my heart out; pulling me into pieces. Maybe the pain of it would kill me; finish off the job Vi had forestalled. If it didn't I would. "Do you think... do you think she would come see me? I just want to talk to her tell her I'm sorry." Tell her goodbye; tell her I'd never give myself the chance to hurt her again.

He sighed heavily, but said he would tell her I wanted to talk to her. He put a hand on top of mine before he left, and said, "You won't get out of here for a few days at least. When you do I'm going to give you a list of other psychiatrists in our area you can go to if you feel that would be better." And he left me with my misery and self-loathing.

* * *

As I walked down the hall to Tate's hospital room I didn't know what to expect. My dad had told me that he didn't remember anything that happened that night, and that he was still on suicide watch, because he was so upset after he learned what he did to me. While my dad was at the hospital with him yesterday I had taken the time to unload all the guns, and wipe them clean. I dumped them off a rocky, secluded cliff into the ocean this morning, and threw the bullets into a dumpster behind a strip mall. At least that was done, whatever may come.

Tate was awake and pacing around the room when I entered. For the briefest moment happiness flashed across his face, and then guilt engulfed it. He shuffled towards me, shoulders hunched, like a beaten dog waiting for the next blow to land. It was a pathetic sight. "I'm sorry. Your dad was right; I shouldn't be near you. I love you, and I almost killed you." A hysterical edge in his voice. "You should have let me die!" He looked at me, his eyes pleading. "I'm sorry Violet, I don't know why I did it." And he collapsed in a chair, tears streaming down his face, muttering 'I'm sorry' over and over.

I stood in front of him and lifted his face up, putting my hand over his mouth. "Stop talking." I waited until he nodded to remove it, and handed him the letter he'd left on his desk. "I do know why you did it." He took it from me with shaking hands. I sat on the bed watching him as he read, looking increasingly more ill as he went on. "Do you remember now?" He nodded his head looking horrified. When he could find his voice he asked me if I was scared of him now.

"No. Your solution to everything is always violence, and I've known that for months. It's not like I have some super immunity to it." He looked like I slapped him. "The combination of drugs and everything I'm not surprised your solution to believing I rejected you was to kill me, and I'm not surprised your reaction to the remorse was to try to kill yourself. You and I are the only ones who've read that by the way, not that it would make sense to anyone besides us. Anyway, the only other person who knows you strangled me is my dad. As far as everyone else is concerned I broke into your house and found you when you wouldn't return my calls after you missed your session, and it s a mystery as to why you did it."

"Why are you protecting me?" He asked cautiously.

"Because I owe you an apology too." I sighed. This was the hard part; the part that could really hurt me more than him strangling me.

"That last day at your house I dropped my book and found your stash of guns under the bed." Shame clouded his face. "I should have talked to you about it as soon as I got back, but honestly I was afraid of the answers I would get, so I avoided you." After a few minutes of silence I asked, "Why didn't you tell me about them?"

"I guess I just didn't want you to think I could do that. The person who bought those guns is not the same person I am now. You changed me Violet."

I wanted to believe that with everything inside of me, but I couldn't. "Then why do you still have them? What would have happened Friday morning if I hadn't shown up that night?"

"It wasn't me." He said firmly.

"Yes, it was. You don't have an evil twin, Tate, you had a psychotic break. It was just you with all the humanity scrubbed off, and all of the control gone."

He starred at the floor no longer able to meet my eye, but I walked over put a hand on his cheek. "You want a future with me. You want forever, and so do I, but how can we have that when you're still planning on your Noble War?" For a moment he melted into my hand, and then he spoke.

The demons I have inside me, Vi, I'm not sure they're ever going to go away, but when I'm with you I'm sane, and I can control them. It's not the med's, and it's not the therapy, it's you. You gave me a reason to live; without you everything falls apart. When I thought I'd lost you I couldn't control them."

"Couldn't or wouldn't? I told you before that I wasn't going anywhere, and I meant it." Bitterness over his betrayal seeping through my careful mask of calm for the first time.

"Then how come every time I try to talk about the future you avoid it?" He interrupted, accusingly.

"Because I don't know how that works, Tate. I never planned on staying in L.A., but I never planned on you either, and I don't know how to reconcile those two things." Or at least I didn't feel I could ask him what I wanted. "I want you forever. I do." Certainty in my voice. "But if you betray my trust again, or if you hurt me again I'll walk away without a backward glance." I said it with conviction, but I wondered, very deep down, if I could do that. For the first time since I entered the room he looked at me like he always did; like I was the only person he could see, and it made my pulse race. Before he could get a word out, the door opened, and a slow southern drawl asked me what I was doing there.

I turned to the voice, but before I could even open my mouth, Tate put himself between his mother and I, half hiding me behind him. "Get out." His tone was chilling, but she stood there resolutely. I was sure she wouldn't do anything with me in the room, but my contempt for the women rose like bile in my throat as I stepped to his side, taking his hand in mine. She glared at me, and left without another word.

"If I move back east for school will you come with me?" The words came out harsher than I meant them to, but my blood was still boiling with hate.

"Yes." He pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me, resting his head against mine. "You're all I want." And for the first time in weeks I was home. "I am sorry Violet. You don't know how it felt to learn about what I did. I broke my promise to you, and I will never, ever let that happen again." He said fiercely.

"You're still staying on the med's and going to therapy." I muttered into his chest.

"Deal." I could hear the smile in his voice.

It wasn't until later that night when I got home from the hospital that I saw Constance again. She was waiting for me on the sidewalk.

"I don't know what you think you re doing little girl, but you'll stay away from him from now on."  
I could have laughed in her face. She may be a tyrant in her own home, but I wasn't going to bend to her will. "You know a couple of detectives came by yesterday. They were very interested in you; apparently they didn't believe your son Beauregard died a natural death."

She tensed at the words, recognizing the threat, and gave me an appraising look. "Those incompetent fools couldn't find their dicks with both hands and map." She drawled.

"Somehow I doubt that." I smiled at her. One day I'm going to nail you to the wall you crazy bitch. I left her standing on the sidewalk fuming, and walked into the house. I was on the phone with Tate telling him what happened when my dad walked in.

"She threatened you? She really seems to hate you." He said calmly when I hung up.

"Yeah, I got that from our brief conversation." I said sarcastically.

"And you're not afraid of anything, are you?" He said with a little smirk. "My fierce little girl."

"Well, I'm definitely not afraid of her. She might rule with an iron fist in her own home, but she can go fuck herself if she thinks she can pull that shit with me. She probably blames me for what happened last night." I added.

"How's Tate?"

"Better, I think. He was pretty upset about what he did, and his mom showing up here has him worried. He was in a good mood when I left though."

"What's going on with you two?" He tried to be casual, and failed spectacularly.

This was the part I was dreading the whole way home, but I decided to do it quick and painless, like ripping off a Band-Aid. "Can you at least not yell at me until I get it all out?" He threw up his hands in resignation. "I know you worry, and I can't deny the reasoning behind it. Shit, I'm worried at this point. But we love each other, dad. I know him, I know what he's capable of; my eyes are open to the risk I'm taking, but I need him. When I met him... for the first time since mom died I haven't laid in bed every night wishing I were strong enough to kill myself." His face contorted, and for the first time he realized the ocean of pain I held inside me. "I'm willing to risk myself to keep that. He agreed to move out of town with me if I got accepted to a college back east, but the deal is he has to stay in therapy and on his medication." I let out a sigh. "He wants you to keep treating him."

"Why?" And surprisingly there was no anger in his voice, just shock.

"I didn't ask, but I can guess. I think he wants to prove to you, before we leave, that you don't have anything to worry about." He raised his eyebrows skeptically. "He says he'll be one hundred percent honest with you in session about whatever you want to know. But dad, if you can't treat him like any other patient I don t want you treating him."

"I'm not sure I can do that, Vi."

"Yeah, neither am I, especially considering how you two have been to each other the last few months. Just think about it, okay? He's staying in therapy regardless, but I think it would mean a lot to him, to both of us, if you gave him a second chance." I walked around the island in the kitchen and gave him a hug.

"I'm sorry I haven't been a very good father to you... after your mom died." His voice hitched. "I should have known you were in so much pain." I didn't blame him because my pain was private, mine alone, but I couldn't tell him that. I just squeezed him tightly for a moment before scrounging up some leftovers for dinner.

Halfway through classes on Monday I got a text from Tate telling me that he was free to leave the hospital. I was tempted to ditch my afternoon classes, but I was behind from missing the previous week, so I told him I'd pick him up as soon as I was finished at school. When I walked into his hospital room a few hours later he was in his normal clothes, and had a big smile on his face. Before I had the chance to say anything he pulled me close to him, and kissed me.

"My dad told me to bring you to our house, said he wants to talk to you when he gets home tonight. He started teaching some classes as UCLA." I explained. He looked hopeful at the news, but I wasn't as optimistic. Regardless I brought him to my house to spend the afternoon. It wasn't until I got Vera down for her afternoon nap that he asked me the one question I wished he wouldn't.

"I want you to tell me exactly what happened that night, Violet." He was so somber I thought someone had died, but maybe that wasn't entirely untrue.

"My dad told you what happened." I muttered.

He stood in front of me taking my hands in his, forcing me to look at him. "He couldn't tell me everything, and you're the only person who can. Please Violet, if there was any other way..."

With a sigh I led him outside. We sat in the deep shade of a tree, adding to the chill of the day. I leaned back between his legs resting against his chest. I couldn't look at his face; I knew how much pain it would hold. He put his arms around me, and I told him everything that happened from the time I walked through his kitchen door, to the time he was loaded into the ambulance. He fingers convulsively closed around my mine, unconsciously conveying his pain as the story went on. For a long time after I finished he was perfectly still and silent, and then his hands moved up to brush the hair away so he could see the bruises it hid on my neck. He kissed each of them softly making tears stream silently down my face. "I love you. I'm sorry."

"For loving me, or hurting me?"

"Both I guess." The pain in his voice was like a knife in my heart. The rest of the day was subdued. My dad didn't get home until we were eating dinner, Vera sitting on my lap laughing as Tate made goofy faces at her across the table. He let us finish and then asked to speak to Tate, privately, in his office, both of them ignoring my nervous glances as they left. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen, so I got up and gave Vera a bath.


	9. Chapter 9

"I owe you an apology, Tate." I could tell the words were hard for him to get out, but they were at least sincere. "I haven't been a very good therapist to you; I let my own feelings interfere with our dynamic, and that has been disastrous. But it seems I haven't been a very good father to Violet either. She told me that after she met you for the first time since her mom died she didn't think about killing herself daily; I should have known she was suffering so much. I don't know if I can treat you like any other patient, but I thought we'd try tonight; I owe it to both of you." He took a deep breath. "So I want you to tell me about you and Violet. She's a large part of your life, and we should talk about that in session, but if you feel you can't be honest about it with me, or if I can't handle it, then we'll find you someone else, okay?"

I nodded. "Where do you want me to start?" I really hoped he didn't ask me anything... private. I didn't want to talk about it, and he probably didn't want to hear it.

"Just start at the beginning, the first time you saw her, first conversation, and so on." There was a definite tension in the room. I lay down on the small couch, and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at his face as I spoke; it made it so much easier.

At first I was just describing events; her walking into me as she came out the front door, seeing her at the club, talking to her the first time. After a little while though I relaxed and it became more about how she made me feel. I told him how when I first saw her I felt pulled towards her. How after spending the first few days with her I felt like I wasn't racing towards a futile and inevitable end; how she made me want a future for the first time in a long time. How she made me feel things I didn't think I was capable of feeling, and how she loved all of me, even the parts others didn't. We turned to more painful avenues for a while; her distance, and the pain it caused. The fears that I had that I hadn't been able to tell her about. My horror and self-loathing at finding out I hurt her, and the added thorn of knowing I broke my promise to her. But then there was the happiness of her still wanting me forever, and standing by my side as the woman who I was forced to call my mother tried to bully us both.

I talked for a long time, babbling in parts, but Dr. Harmon rarely interrupted, instead just letting me talk myself out. Occasionally he'd ask me how Violet felt about something, or to repeat parts of our conversations for him. I never forgot to whom I was talking, and that because of that some things were just off limits, but otherwise I was honest.

When I finished I didn't know what to expect, and after a moments silence he let the subject drop, and began asking me questions about my family life both past and present. He asked me to start at the beginning, from my earliest memories and move my way forward again. I didn't remember much from before my father left when I was 6, but I did remember my mother's drunken rage; how it only intensified when he disappeared. How she treated Addie and I, and how I tried to protect her as much as I could. My suspicions about what happened to my brother, and Larry's callousness at the death of his wife and children when he abandoned them for the cocksucker. Her hating me for not being her perfect son, and how I still felt like a helpless child whenever she struck me. Again, he let me talk myself out, occasionally prompting me, or asking for more details.

Once that subject was exhausted we turned to school; the subjects I was good at and enjoyed, and the ones I wasn't so good at. I told him I used to run track, and I enjoyed it and was good at it, but after everything that happened last year I gave it up. As I sat waiting for his next question, and realized we must have been talking for a long time. The house was quiet, but I was sure Violet was some where nearby anxiously waiting for us to finish. The silence stretched on for several minutes, and the tension was building back up. Finally Dr. Harmon broke it.

"Well I think this was a good start; I appreciate that you were honest with me. I would like to continue working with you, but I'd like to talk to you and Violet together before we come to a decision." A few minutes later she followed me into the office and sat on the couch looking perplexed. "Vi, I would like to keep treating Tate, but you're a big part of his life, and we will talk about that in session. If you're not comfortable with it he should go to someone else."

She considered him for a moment before she spoke. "Can you treat him like any other patient?"

"Of course not, he's in love with my daughter, but I can be as unbiased as possible. If it becomes a problem we'll stop immediately". He looked from her face to mine. "Can you agree with that?" I said I could, and he turned back to Vi to wait for her decision. She shrugged her shoulders and gave her okay. "Tate, I'll call your mother in the morning to let her know. I'd like to see you twice a week for the next few weeks, okay?" I nodded, but Violet stiffened next to me.

"Good luck." He looked up from his appointment book. "Do you really think she's going to go along with that?" He told her to let him worry about it, and surprisingly she relaxed.

He got up and started putting papers into his briefcase. "Vi, do you mind staying home with Vera for a few hours? I think I'm going to head to Starbuck's and see if I can get some work done for my classes."

"Is she pretty?

"Ha, ha."

"No, I don't mind. I think she's out for the night anyway." He gave her a kiss on the cheek on his way out.

* * *

Once my dad's car pulled away I turned to Tate. "So what did he want to know?"

"He really wasn't kidding about having to be totally honest in session. You wouldn't believe the questions he asked about our sex life." I stood there rooted to the spot in horror until I saw his mouth twitch. He was totally fucking with me.

"You asshole!" He burst into laughter, and asked me if he was banished from the house, all mock dejection. I took his hand and led him upstairs where he flopped down on my bed, and asked me if I really thought my dad could handle his mother. I smiled at him. "Did you think I inherited my darkness from my mom? Don't let the doctor facade fool you", I scoffed. As the minutes dragged I sat next to him wondering if I really had it in me to kill his good mood. I decided I did.

"I need to tell you something, and I'm not sure how you re going to take it." I was staring at the wall opposite me, afraid to meet his eye. "When everyone was at the hospital with you I snuck back in your house. I took all the guns and the drugs; I got rid of them." He didn't say anything, just reached out and took my hand placing on his chest, and covering it with his own. I could feel his heart beating through his sweater.

"Your dad said that you told him that after you met me you didn't want to kill yourself anymore. Is that true?" I could feel my face contort in pain, and nodded, unable to speak. When I could find my voice again I asked him if his arms hurt. "Yeah, and I'm still a little clumsy. The doctor said I'd be fine once everything is healed."

I looked at him. "Can I see them?" He watched my face nervously as he rolled up his sleeves, and removed the bandages revealing a crisscross of angry red skin that had been stitched together. I leaned over and softly kissed my way down the length of them, the thread scratching against my lips as I did. "I'm sorry." He replaced the bandages and pulled me down so my head was resting on his chest.

"I'm not." He said firmly. "Your bruises will heal, but every time I see these scars it will remind me of what I did to you. I need that reminder of what happens when I lose control."

"And what happens when we're not honest with each other." I added miserably. I reached up and cupped his cheek in my hand. "I missed you, you know. When I was in Boston my last thought before I fell asleep every night was how much happier I'd be if you were holding me like this." His hand tilted my head back and his lips met mine. They were deep kisses, passionate ones, and I realized how long it had been since we'd been together.

He worked his way down, kissing my neck and chest, shedding clothes along the way; his hands slipped up under my skirt and stripped my tights off. He kissed his way back up the inside of my leg before settling between them and running his tongue between my folds, flicking it across my nub, making me whimper in pleasure, by the time he relented my breathing was ragged. He pulled me up and turned me around so I was on my knees facing away from him. I felt his hand slide between my legs, pushing them apart, and guiding his hardness into me. He stilled there for just for a moment pressing his body against me, into me, twisting his arms around me. The words I spoke about needing him like a drug, craving the feeling of him, and who he is, coming floating back.

Then the dance between our bodies, moving with and against each other started; our hips rocking to a rhythm that existed only between us. His breath was hot and humid against the skin of shoulder. Thought and reason were blown away in the scent of sweat and sex, in the indecent wet sounds of us coming together. I leaned into him, against the force of him plunging into me, as he attacked my shoulder with his lips and teeth, my hair sticking to his sweaty face. All the hurt didn't matter, it's the price we pay, and I'll take more just to keep this. "Come for me" he murmured into my ear, almost whined it, as his hand slipped down to swirl around my clit.

My body was on fire, burning with need, and I cried out his name as he pushed me over the edge, but his fingers kept caressing me, drawing it out. Leaving me shuddering and shaking; my thighs slick and trembling. His head rested on my shoulder for just a second, and with one last thrust he followed me, collapsing on top of me with a cry. For a moment there was an awful emptiness as he pulled of out before he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him, so I could listen to his heart beating frantically against his ribs, his breath as ragged as mine now. I reached my had back up to his face and whispered "I love you"; it was the first time I said it, and his happiness at my words was palpable. He caught my wrist in his hand and kissed the scars on it in reply.

He was gone by the time my dad got back, but I lay in bed running my hand over the place he should have been for a long time, smelling him on the sheets; aching for him to be next to me, hating the separation from the person who made me make sense.

* * *

I woke on the descent into Logan airport. Tate had one arm around me, and was closing my laptop with his other. It was spring break, and as an early graduation present from my dad I was spending the week in Boston. Surprisingly Tate's mom had fronted him the cash for his ticket without comment. Neither of us knew what my dad had said to her the day after Tate got out of the hospital, but since then she had basically ignored him, only deigning to speak to him when it was absolutely necessary. Not that he spent much time at his house anymore; really it was just the place he slept. He spent most of his time at my place.

He was fidgety, nervous as he sat next time me. "What's wrong?" I asked sleepily.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." I slipped a thumb under the sleeve of his sweater, pressing it into the scars there, reminding him. "What's wrong?"

"Do you think... they'll like me?" He said quietly as he looked down at his knees. He'd been nervous for weeks about meeting my surrogate family. It had started with an off-hand comment I made about them being the only people whose opinion mattered to me. I took his hand in mine and told him he was worrying too much.

"If we weren't about to land we could knock-out a quickie in the bathroom to help you relax." Finally a little smile appeared on his face. "It will be fine. Just relax about it, and I'm sure they'll like you. Worst case scenario they'll like you for no other reason than that you make me happy."

My uncle met us at the airport to bring us back to his place. I loved my Uncle Nate; staying with him was perfect because he let us come and go as we pleased, and didn't feel the need to keep us entertained. We met the guys from the record store that night at the same coffee shop I'd met them in the last time. Tate was silent and awkward at first, but after a little while Charlie drew him out and he joined in our conversation. Lisa was sitting next to me halfway through leaned in and whispered. "Jeez Vi, I wished Charlie looked at me the way he looks at you." It made me blush, and she wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "I don't think I've ever seen you happier." In truth, she probably hadn't.

Tate had never been to Boston, so I spent most of the time taking him to my favourite places, walking around the campus' of the colleges I'd applied to trying to get a feel for them, and hanging out at the shop. It was the latter that led us to a seedy bar not far from the Massachusetts Institute of Art campus late Friday night. We shouldn't have been there since it was 21 & over, but Charlie knew pretty much everyone, and got us in without a problem. The place was packed and there was already a band on stage, as we made our way past the bar to stand at the back of the crowd.

Once they finished Lisa and I headed off towards the bathroom to smoke a joint, leaving Tate and Charlie deep in the throes of a debate of which was Nirvana's best album. It wasn't until we were walking past the bar that I spotted Gabe sitting there. From the look on his face I guessed there was still a lot of animosity on his part. He used to work at the record shop when I first started there, and was a few years older than me. He had pursued me from the start, and I kept refusing him. It all came to a head one night when he drunkenly tried to kiss me, and I'd given him a black eye. Charlie and Lisa fired him on the spot.

Because of the crush of people I had no choice but to pass close by him, and as I did so he reached out and gripped my arm painfully. I didn't try to pull away, just glared at him. Lisa gave him a harsh glance, and looked over my shoulder before telling him he had about 30 seconds to let go of me. "Or what? You going to make me regret it Lisa?" He slurred.

"No" She pointed towards Tate and Charlie who were pushing their way through the crowd towards us. "But they will." One part of me really wanted to see Tate beat this joker into a bloody pulp, but the other side of me knew he'd probably kill him; like literally, kill him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Gabe's face, which had been drunkly confident faltered, and I peeked up at Tate who was next to me. His face was flushed with anger; his expression making my blood run cold. How Gabe didn't drop my arm and run for the exit I didn't know; must have been the alcohol dulling his senses. Stupidly he told Tate this wasn't any business of his. In hindsight he probably realized it was the wrong thing to do because the next thing I saw was a fist punching Gabe in the face, breaking his nose, and showering me in blood. He slid limply down to the floor, releasing my arm along the way.

I grabbed Tate and drug him out before he could do anything else. A few minutes later we were sitting in a park lighting up the joint Lisa and I had intended to smoke. I was watching Tate cautiously, he was still angry, but had control of himself. Once we'd all settled down a little Charlie regaled him with the story about how I'd punched Gabe in the face giving him a brilliant black eye, and fracturing my knuckle in the process. "She tried to use it as an excuse not to restock shelves for a week!" He roared with laughter, and to my surprise Tate laughed right along with him.

It wasn't until we were on the plane home the next day that the subject came up again. "See you didn't have anything to worry about. Charlie and Lisa and everyone loved you." A big grin spread across his face. "Do you think you could be happy living there with me?"

"I'd be happy living with you anywhere."

"Really? I mean it's so different from L.A."

"Yeah it is, you don't have drunk ex-boyfriends in L.A." He teased.

"And you don't have ex-girlfriends in Boston." I said as I rummaged in my bag.

"What are you talking about?"

"The first day we had lunch together a girl came up to me to warn me about you. I figured she was an ex."

"What did she look like?"

"Taller than me, brunette, thin, brown eyes."

He scoffed. "Diana. I slept with her a few times. That hardly makes her an ex."

"Well punching someone in the face hardly makes them an ex either." I said casually before I turned to my book.

It wasn't until much later when we were back in L.A. and Tate had gone home that my dad asked me if anything interesting happened. "I ran into Gabe one night."

He looked up from his drink. "That asshole who tried to kiss you at the Christmas party?"

"Yeah; still an asshole by the way. We were out with Charlie and Lisa and he was drunk. He grabbed my arm hard enough to give me a bruise and refused to let go." I saw his face flood with fear as he asked me how Tate handled it. "When he refused to let go he punched him, broke his nose." I smiled at the memory.

"Was he able to stop?"

"Well he's not in jail, so what do you think?" I snarked.

"Good." And he went back to his drink.


	10. Chapter 10

"I got you something". It was a beautiful day; sunny and cool, and the hill we were sitting on top of was verdant; the stairs we had walked up winding down it like a snake. Tate had brought me to what was rumored to be a secret Nazi camp during the 40's. He had one arm around me, and was rummaging in his pocket with his other one. He pulled out a mess of silver, and disentangled it to reveal a ring swinging on the end of a long, thin necklace. "I found it at a thrift store."

He smiled as I reached out to touch it. It was old and tarnished; a silver peacock feather shaped into a circlet with small colored stones scattered around. "It's beautiful, thank you." I smiled back. I wasn't used to getting gifts from guys, and it made me blush.

"I thought you'd like it." He shrugged as if to say 'it's nothing'. The ring looked too big to fit on my fingers, but I tried anyway, before finally slipping it over my head. I was absently fingering it when he spoke again. "What are you thinking about?"

"My dad." Two days ago my acceptance letters had arrived from UCLA and USC. Since then we seemed to have an on-going argument about it. He wanted me to stay in L.A.; I flatly refused. The only reason I had applied was the possibility that I wouldn't be able to go back to Boston because of Hayden, which was no longer an issue. "He's still trying to convince me to stay here. He's moved on to trying to use Vera to guilt me into it." My annoyance flared at the memory; he knew what my weak spots were and seemed to be fine with exploiting them. "He'll probably try to enlist you next, so beware." Tate pulled me closer, tucking my head into his neck. "Are you sure you're okay with moving to Boston?" I asked after a moment.

He scoffed. "Of course I am. Now that I'm 18 the only thing keeping me in L.A. is you; it's not like I'm staying because I love the cocksucker so much."

"What about Addie?" I asked quietly. I knew his sister, like mine, was a soft spot.

He let out a sigh, and hung his head. "I know. I guess it sounds callous, like I'm abandoning her for you, but sometimes all you can do is save yourself."

"It's not callous." This was the part of his life I couldn't relate to. I would miss Vera like crazy, but I had no doubt she'd be happy, safe, and loved; my conscience didn't ache at the thought of leaving her in the way his did about leaving Addie. "But maybe I'm just really selfish without realizing it."

"No, you're not. I want you to be happy, and I saw how much happier you were in Boston. I was happy there too; it was like a little glimpse of the life we could have together, and I really want that. I'm not moving there for you, I'm moving there for us." The wind was picking up, blowing the grass like waves on the ocean. I had to admit, California was beautiful this time of year; like something out of a Steinbeck novel. Soon though it would turn brown and parched before burning to ground, starting the cycle all over again.

"Have you heard from U-Mass yet?" He shook his head. Both of us were still waiting for hear from the schools in Boston, and every time I thought about it there was a little knot of tension in my stomach, but he seemed totally at ease. We had talked about it, and decided if one us didn't get accepted we'd still move there, so essentially it didn't change our plans, just complicated them.

When we got back to my house so I could relieve the nanny Vera was all giggling happiness as she gleefully bashed a stuffed animal on the floor to make it squeak. Making dinner was a slow process though since she wouldn't let me put her down for long; every time I did she'd stand next to me silently watching until I finished whatever I was doing then look at me with her big doe eyes and reach up her arms.

"Isn't your arm getting tired?" Tate was sitting on the counter avidly watching us.

"Yeah, maybe she'll sit still if you hold her?" I suggested, and his face was instantly nervous. He liked Vera, and she liked him, but the few times he had picked her up he looked slightly terrified; like he was scared he d hurt her.

"Ugh. Why is she calling?" I raised an eyebrow questioningly. "My mother." He ignored the call, but a few minutes later she called again, and a few minutes after that, and a few minutes after that. Finally he turned his phone off.

"Maybe something's wrong?"

"I doubt it." He said coldly, and I let it drop. He was just setting the plates on the table when there was loud banging on the front door. We looked at each other for a moment in shock before he went to the door and threw it open.

"Where is she?" I heard his mother yell, as she stomped into the kitchen waving some papers clutched in her hand. I instinctively set Vera behind me, protectively, as she advanced. "You little slut!" She screamed as Tate put himself between. "What do you think you're doing?" she said, waving the papers in his face. "If you think I'm letting you move to Boston you are crazy. I'll kill you before I let you run off with that little tramp. You are just like your father." She spat and threw the papers at him before she stomped back out, slamming the door behind her.

He followed, locking the door as I picked up Vera. She was crying, with her head buried against me, when he came striding back into the room, a mix of anger, humiliation, and sorrow playing on his face. He picked up the mess of papers and sat down at the table without a word. He had gotten his acceptance letter to University of Massachusetts - Boston.

By the time my dad got home Vera was in bed. Immediately he picked up on the tension, and he sat across from Tate as I watched from the door; I had been outside smoking and pacing. "What happened?" Tate seemed unable to speak, so I explained the situation. "Did she hurt anybody?" I flicked the cigarette away in irritation, and came back inside, slumping into a chair.

"No. I'm really worried though. Whatever you said to her has kept her in check for a few months, but the situation has changed."

"Maybe. Maybe she needed to blow off some steam." He was trying to be the calm little center of the storm, and it was making me want to punch him.

I looked at Tate. "Tell him." I got back up, unable to sit still, and started pacing again.

"My brother Beau... Protective Services was going to take him away right before he died. I think that's why she killed him, or had Larry do it. Me leaving... it could have pushed over the edge again." He looked at me and snapped, "would you please sit down, you're driving me crazy."

I just glared at him and kept pacing, as my dad turned to face me. "Violet, calm down, you're -"

But I cut him off. "I swear to God if the words 'you're over-reacting' come out of your mouth I will lose it."

The chair Tate was sitting in clattered to the floor as he stood up and pulled me into his chest. I let out an angry huff of air, but put my arms around him. "Calm down, please." My dad was quiet, probably slipping into therapist-mode, watching our 'dynamic'.

"I am taking this seriously, Violet. Tate, stay here tonight. I'll go over to your house and talk to her in the morning, and we'll go from there." They worked out the details between them before I heard his chair scrape across the floor and he walked out. As soon as he was gone Tate was pulling me upstairs to my room, locking the door behind us once we were inside.

"I think I should go home."

"No." I said flatly.

"Just listen to me." He started pacing. "She's not going to stop until she's caught. She got away with it once, but I'm not my brother, I can fight back. If your dad talks to her tomorrow she'll bide her time. We can't wait that long; at least right now we know she's going to act. If we wait we won't even have that." My expression so thoroughly said Are you fucking kidding me? that I didn't need to articulate it. "Vi, if she's caught it makes things so much easier."

"I might agree with what you're saying, but we have no idea what she's planning. She's a smart bitch, and like you said she got away with it once. If we had some idea..." I trailed off.

"I was thinking she'd probably try to make it look like suicide. I mean with my recent history, no one would look to closely at it. And she'll have to do it in the house; she'll want to keep me there like Beau. I have to go back tonight."

"This is insane." I snapped, and got up to pace again, but before I could start Tate leaned in and kissed me softly, indulgently.

"We don't have another option, Vi." He said quietly. And he was right, we didn't. I just hated not having a plan; rushing into this blind.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I reached up and stroked his face. The ring he gave me earlier was resting between my breasts, and it's weight made me think about the future we were planning. The thought of that losing that, of losing him after everything made it feel like my heart was being wrenched out, and I choked out a sob. He led me over to the bed, pulling me down next to him, so I could bury my face against him and cry. He didn't say anything just held me close until I got it all out. It was late, around midnight when I calmed down. Tate was starting to get twitchy; I could tell he was thinking about leaving. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am, and we don't have time for this shit. So unless you're planning on strangling me unconscious again, drop it." I said harshly, my words clearly wounding him.

"Get that chicken out of the fridge." His words were such a non-sequitur I just gaped at him. "For Thaddeus." He explained. "You're going in through the basement while I come in the front door." I suppressed a shudder at the thought of that... thing, and nodded in agreement. "As long as no one is downstairs you can sneak up the old service stairs, and I'll go up the main staircase; if we don't meet anyone we'll wait in my room." I slipped my cell phone and cigarettes into my coat pocket, and then like the night Hayden broke in we slipped out of my room hand-in-hand as quietly as possible.

Once we gained the street we went over our cover story in whispers, and then with grotesque haste we were in front of his house. All the lights on the ground floor were out, but there was a light on in his room, and as I slipped around back I saw the light on in his mother's room. As soon as I entered the basement I could hear the scraping, sucking noises of Thaddeus as he came out from the shadows, a wave of nausea threatening to overtake me. I put the chicken on the floor and kicked it to him; he greedily took it and went back to his hiding spot, leaving me alone.

My heart was beating out a staccato rhythm against my ribs as I mounted the stairs, pulling a tarnished golf club from a bag near the bottom. I reached the door into the house and waited, feeling both faint and hyper-aware at the same time. I had 911 queue'd up on my phone so all I had to do was touch the screen once to connect. I heard the front door slam, and Tate's feet scuff across the entry, and I moved into action, leaving the basement, creeping across the hall, and ascending the service stairs. Every creak of the stairs threatened to give me away, but when I reached the second floor I could hear voices towards the front of the house, and I relaxed.

Mercifully all of the lights in the hallway were off, but a strong moon was shining through the windows. As I drew closer Tate's was the first voice I could recognize, then his mother's drawl. I peeked around a corner and saw Tate, Larry, and Constance grouped together at the second story landing. Tate was the only one facing me, but he was so focused on his mother I don't think he saw me. Constance and Larry both had their backs to me, and Larry was holding something behind him, but I couldn't see what it was before I withdrew.

The waiting was the worst feeling I'd ever known; worse than Tate strangling me; worse than my mom dying. He was putting his life in my hands, and if I didn't act quickly enough he'd die. I prayed that I would be; that we hadn't gotten ourselves in over our heads with this. When I heard their voices rising I used it as cover to dial 911. Despite rehearsing what I was going to say there was real fear in my voice when the operator picked up. I was still holding the phone to my ear when I heard scuffling noises and peeked around the corner again to see Larry and Constance putting a noose around Tate's neck and pushing him over the banister; all the fear and stress clouding my brain disappeared as he dropped over the side, out of sight.

I ran down the hallway towards them as quickly and quietly as I could, dropping the phone along the way; they were so absorbed they didn't notice. Larry first. I hit him in the knee and he buckled, letting go of the rope. I heard Constance scream in pain as the rope ripped through the skin of her palms, and I landed another blow on his collarbone, snapping it with a sickening crack. When I turned to her I could see the internal debate: defend herself, or make sure Tate died? I didn't give her the chance; I hit her with the club as hard as I could right across the stomach, sending her into the wall and knocking the wind out of her. I heard Tate's body hit the floor with a thud. Please don't let him be dead.

"Tate!" I screamed as I looked over the banister. For a moment my heart stopped; he wasn't moving. And then he curled into a ball on his side, his fingers scrabbling to loosen the rope around his neck, and he started coughing and gasping for air. Though it seemed like only seconds had passed, I could hear the sirens nearing. I turned to go down to Tate, but before I could someone grabbed me by the hair and slammed me into the wall. I was so dazed I lost my grip on the club and crumpled to the floor before I could recover myself. When I did I was flat on my back and Constance was standing over me looking murderous, the club in her hand. She hit me viciously in the soft spot between my ribs and hip and I screamed in pain. As she raised up a second time her shoulder suddenly exploded in a spray of blood and bone, and she collapsed next to me. Through the haze of pain I hadn't heard the cops coming through the door. "Suicide is a good option" I gasped out "saves you the humiliation of a trial." I didn't know if she heard before she blacked out. I hoped she did.

I could hear footsteps running up the stairs, and then a cop was crouching over me asking me if I was okay. Larry was moaning in pain somewhere I couldn't see, and I could hear more people flooding through the front door. The man was gentle with me as he helped me to my feet and brought me downstairs against the rush of paramedics coming up, setting me on a bench by the door. I had to watch Tate from a distance, but he was conscious and his eyes were locked on mine as they worked on him. It wasn't until I heard a familiar voice screaming my name that I looked away to see my dad, Vera in his arms, trying to push his way into the house. "Dad!"

The cops let him through and he skidded, almost fell in his haste to reach me. He was completely hysterical. He set Vera down and immediately started checking me over. "I'm fine." He didn't seem to hear me, too lost in his own panic to register my voice. "Ouch!" He had hit the spot when the golf club had impacted. "Dad!" I had to yell in his face before he finally stopped and looked me in the eye. "Calm down. I'm fine. She hit me with a golf club, but I'm fine."

"What happened Violet? I woke up when I heard sirens and you were gone." His anger was overtaking his fear now; seeping into his voice.

This was important; there were tons of people around. "I woke up and Tate was gone. I couldn't find him and figured he came here, so I broke in through the basement door again and was sneaking up to his room trying to find him when I heard arguing. Larry and Constance had put a noose around his neck and threw him over the banister." My eyes unwillingly looked up. "I had grabbed a golf club on my way in and I hit them with it until they let go of the rope. But Constance fought back, and got it away from me; she hit me before the cops could stop her." Helpfully they brought her down on the stretcher at that moment, bloody bandages covering half her upper body.

"Why didn't you wake me up Violet!" He screamed, grabbing me by the shoulders, and scaring Vera to tears. I hung my head, and after a minute his anger vanished and he put his arms around me. "I am so mad at you right now Violet. How could you do this to me? After you mother... I could have lost you." He started crying.

"I'm sorry, dad." And I was, but I didn't regret my choice.


	11. Chapter 11

Once we got to the hospital the chaos didn't stop. My dad and Vera met us there, and were shortly joined by the two detectives who had stopped by after Tate tried to kill himself. Between X-rays, CAT scans, and ultra-sounds I could hear them in the next cubicle interviewing Tate. I couldn't get the words, just voices; Tate's low and strained, standing out from theirs. They interviewed me next, and soon after I was released. A brilliant, painful bruise had blossomed where I was hit, but there was no internal damage.

I went in to see Tate while my dad took Vera to the cafeteria for some breakfast. It was approaching a solid 24 hours since I'd last slept, and I was drunk with exhaustion. As soon as he saw me he lifted up his hand, and I took it, smoothing the hair out of his face with the other. I winced with pain as I leaned down to kiss him. "I'm sorry I wasn't quicker."

"No." He croaked. "You were perfect." Squeezing his hand around mine. Not long after the doctor told him he was free to go too. We collapsed in a sleepy heap in the back of the car on the way home. I had very fuzzy memories of getting to Tate's and making my way to his bed. When I woke up many hours later he was curled around me, still deeply asleep. Carefully as I could I got up, and went downstairs, where I heard Addie laughing in the kitchen.

When I walked in I found her sitting at the table eating chocolate chips with a man who looked like he could be a model. He stood up and shook my hand. "Hi, you must be Violet, I'm Travis. Tate called this morning to have me hang out with Addie until you guys got back."

"How do you guys know each other?"

"Oh, I am, or I guess was, Connie's dog walker. Is he still asleep?"

"Yeah, when he wakes up can you tell him I had to go do something and I'll be back later?" He said he would, and I went back to my house to shower and change, and then went to the hospital. Outside Constance's room was a police officer who searched my bag before letting me in. She was asleep as I walked over and gripped her good arm in my hand, digging my nails in until she woke up. She didn't say anything, but I found what I was looking for, and left.

* * *

Saturday morning I normally would have slept late, but I decided I really needed to see the paper so I pulled myself out of bed at 7AM. When I walked into the kitchen my dad already had it unfurled and was reading it over a cup of coffee. "You two really deserve each other don't you?"

"That's one way of looking at it, I guess."

"What's another way?"

I considered him for a moment. "No, you're right that's the only way of looking at it, but are you seriously going to try and convince me I wasn't in the right doing what I did?" To that he had no reply. "I know you don't want to believe it, but Tate and I are very similar; I'm just more subtle."

"How so?"

"His plan to humiliate her was to make her live with the shame of her perfect son being a mass murderer. My way achieved the same end, just without the body count." His eye glazed over as he considered my words. "Are you done with the paper?"

"Yeah." He set it down looking a little shaken, and I picked it up. I quickly scanned the article. The reporter had done a good job; I wasn't the only source he'd spoken to. Obviously someone on the police force had talked as well, but it looked like all of Constance's sins were dug up and embroidered in The Times today. I was hoping this would push her over the edge. I walked over to Tate's with it, and found him already awake and in the kitchen. "Where's Addie?" I asked as I walked in.

"Still asleep."

"Good. I have something to show you." I laid the paper out on the counter, and Tate came up behind me to read it over my shoulder.

"When did you do this?" Like my dad he had immediately understood my involvement.

"About a week ago, but I wasn't the only 'anonymous source'; some of the quotes are mine, but mostly I just pointed him in the right direction. From the looks of it someone in the police station filled in the details. Are you mad?"

"No, I just don't really see why you did it."

"Why were you planning on killing a bunch of people at our school?"

"To make her suffer; it would be worse than killing her, humiliating her like that." He paused for a moment, finally getting it. "You're kinda evil when you put your mind to it aren't you?" It had been just over two weeks since Constance and Larry had been arrested. The bruise on my side no longer hurt, but it was lurid yellow-green, and Tate's neck was still red and rough in some places. He pulled me tightly against him, and started kissing my neck.

"Really?"

"I told you it was hot when you were like this."

"Yeah, don't expect it to happen again."

"I'm hoping it won't, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy it when it does happens." From the hardness pressing into me he was certainly enjoying it.

"Bedroom?"

"We're not going to make it that far." He was probably right. I turned and pushed him into one of the chairs around the table, straddling him as he pulled my shirt off so he could lick and kiss what my bra exposed of my breasts. I ground down on him, but the fabric separating us was suddenly unbearable. I pushed his knees apart and roughly tugged his jeans and boxers down before kneeling in front of him, taking him in my mouth. He moaned in pleasure above me, his hands knotted painfully into my hair.

I brought him just to the edge before pulling away and licking up his torso, straddling him again so he could feel the wetness through my panties. "Tease." He moaned into my neck as he slipped his hand between simultaneously rubbing both of us. When he made my breath hitch he smiled and pushed the fabric aside and I slid down on top of him, taking him inside of me, slowly, teasingly. I grabbed on to the back of the chair to steady myself as his hands undid the clasp of my bra so his tongue could flick across my nipples making me moan in pleasure. But in this position I controlled the pace, and I was being exquisitely mean by maintaining a slow steady rhythm; every time he'd try to get me to go faster I 'd stop for a moment.

Finally, he snapped, and with a growl picked me and carried me to the island in the middle of the kitchen. The marble was cold and hard against my back, and when he climbed on top of me he slammed into me hard enough to make my breath catch in my throat, then he pulled out, and did it again and again until I was sure I was developing more bruises. "Tate" I whined, and pulled his mouth to me, feeling him melt into me, being gentler with me, thrusting in and out in the perfect way to make me come. It felt so good that I wanted it to last, but it didn't for very long; I was digging my nails into his shoulder and moaning into his neck when I came, and not long after he followed.

He was still kissing me when he pulled out, his cock now limp and sticky against my skin as it trailed down my leg. "You don't happen to have an ice pack in your freezer, do you?" I asked sarcastically as I got dressed.

"I'll give you a massage after we eat."

"What a gentleman." I said teasingly, making him smile. "Sex, breakfast, and a back rub all in one morning." And I kissed him before putting my shirt back on.

He was true to his word though. After he woke Addie up and we had breakfast Travis dropped by to take her the Griffith Park Zoo, which she had never been to. I lay down on his bed a little while later, inhaling his scent off the sheets as he straddled me and started rubbing my back. He was brushing my hair out of his way when I felt his fingers trace the line of the necklace across the back of my neck. "Do you ever take it off?"

"When I shower and sleep."

"You didn't the last time we slept together."

"The last time we slept in the same bed was when we got back from the hospital. I was so out of it I don't think I took my shoes off."

He stopped rubbing, and I turned my head awkwardly to look at him over my shoulder. "What if I gave you another ring... someday." He looked genuinely frightened of my answer.

"I'd love it just as much as this one, but can we wait until after graduation?"

"I'm serious Violet."

"So am I."

He started rubbing again, but when he finished he lay down next to me, looking at me intently before he spoke. "I wasn't joking."

"I know you weren't." I said quietly. "Neither was I."

"Is this something you really want?" His voice was hopeful, but guarded, as if he was expected me to laugh in his face at any moment. He stretched an arm across me, and was tracing little nervous circles on my shoulder with his thumb.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

"I was serious though, about waiting until after graduation."

"Well, when?"

"Surprise me. I have one other condition too." I added. "I don't want a big thing; just you and me at the courthouse, okay?" I guess most people would find it unromantic, but I didn't. To me the intimacy between just the two people involved was much more romantic than some show wedding.

"You and me, for always." He said before kissing me softly.

I was there the next day when he got the call from County Corrections that Constance had killed herself. I guess she couldn't live with the humiliation of everyone knowing her dirty laundry after all. Addie was really upset about it, but when Tate and I were alone he leaned in and whispered, a small smile on his face, "you really are evil, you know?"

Later that night we were sitting outside enjoying the mild spring night when I finally asked him something that had been bothering me all day. "What's going to happen to Addie when we move?"

"I was thinking of going to the jail to talk to Larry about it tomorrow." I was so obviously confused he explained. "He has some money saved, and he was planning on selling this place to pay for my mother's lawyers. Since that's no longer a problem I figured he could put the money into a trust for Addie so she can go to a nice group home."

"You think he'd do that? I mean he's not exactly old, and he won't be in jail forever. He'll probably want to have something stashed away for when he gets out."  
He just smiled mildly. "He might, but I have something that he might want too. The cops still think that my mother is the one who is responsible for Beau's death. Right now Larry only has to worry about attempted murder charges; that could always change."

"I thought you only had suspicions? Did something change?"

"No, I still only have suspicions, but he doesn't know that."

"I'm impressed."

"I was hoping you would be." He looked incredibly smug, but I kissed him anyway.

Six weeks later we graduated. My dad had been obviously disappointed that I had no interest in collecting my diploma in person, but didn't carry on too much. Tate and I spent the day bumming around L.A., finally ending up on a secluded stretch of beach that night where he built a bonfire for us. A few weeks later the Murder House sold, and Tate moved in with us. He sent all of Constance's possessions to auction, saving only a few things Addie had wanted to keep to decorate her room at the group home she moved into.

* * *

The first week of August all our stuff was packed and being shipping to Boston where we met it a few days later, moving into the little 2 bedroom apartment over the record store that Charlie and Lisa had decided they outgrew when they found out she was pregnant. A few weeks later I started studying for a degree in art history at Wellesley; Tate a degree in English literature at U-Mass Boston.

We were lingering in bed the morning of my 19th. birthday when he pulled a plain silver band from under his pillow and handed it to me. On the inside it was inscribed, in letters almost too small to read, 'When love is not madness, it is not love.' Two weeks later we were married; just the two of us at the courthouse. My dad was livid when we showed up at Christmas, rings on our fingers, that I hadn't bothered telling him.

We were happy in Boston. We loved our little apartment, and our friends, and college. We missed our families of course, and went back to L.A. for Christmas and spring break, but we had no intention of moving back there when we finished school. A month before we were set to graduate I found out I was pregnant. It wasn't planned, but Tate was ecstatic... and then terrified. I probably would have been both too except that I was sick as dog for months.

It wasn't until December, when we were laying in bed watching the snow fall outside the window in the light of the streetlamps that he told me his biggest fear. "Vi, do you think I'll be a good father?" His hand was resting on the curve of my belly, and I turned my head to look at him. "I just worry... I never had one so I'm worried that I never learned how to be a good one." It seemed like once the words started coming out he couldn't stop them. "I mean, I love you more than anything and I almost killed you once. What if that happened again? I can't -"

I put my hand on top of his. "Stop Tate. You know the kind of parent you don't want to be. You remember how it felt when your dad left, and how it felt when Constance hit you. I don't think you'd do that to someone else. This is new to me too, you know. You think I don't have these fears?"

"It's different."

"I know it is, but my point is every one worries. If I didn't trust you despite what happened in the past I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have married you, I wouldn't be having this baby, I wouldn't even be within a hundred miles of you. But I do trust you, and I'm going to need you more than ever once this baby is born; I can't do this without you."

He leaned his forehead against mine. "Promise me you'll take the baby and leave if you have to." When I didn't answer after a minute he said, "Promise me, Vi." I didn't want to think about this; the possibility that I might have to do that. I could feel the tears rolling down my cheek. "This isn't just about you and me anymore." He said softly. My throat was so constricted I couldn't speak, so I just nodded. "Thank you." And he wiped away my tears.

Just after the New Year Leila Rose was born. As soon as I started screaming with labor pains Tate started apologizing. I finally yelled at him to shut up, or get out before he stopped. He was scared to hold her the first time, backing away from the nurse who was trying to hand her to him. She just laughed, "Every first time dad is the same way" she said, and showed him how to hold her, supporting her head. He stared at her for a long time, and you could see the nervousness draining out of him as he did. When he finally looked up there was no fear in his face, only a sort of bemused wonderment.

I was asleep later that day when my dad and Vera arrived at the hospital, thoroughly jet-lagged. I woke up to see Tate still holding Leila and both him and my dad cooing over her, my dads hand on his shoulder. When he saw I was awake he came over and gave me a kiss. "She's perfect, baby, and just as pretty as her mom." Within 6 months he had moved back to Boston, unable to bear the separation from us any longer, and claiming it was cheaper to move back than keep spending money on airplane tickets; Vera had just turned 7.

By the time she was four we decided, like Charlie and Lisa, that our apartment was too small and we moved into a little cottage-like house after Tate became an editor at the publishing house he'd worked at since graduating. The first morning we woke up at our new house I leaned over and kissed him after the alarm went off. "Come on, we've got to take her to pre-school" I went to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back, kissing me again. "It can wait" he murmured against my lips and just then there was a piercing little girl scream from the doorway, and footsteps running away.

We leaned our foreheads together in frustration, "I got it", he said before getting out of bed to go find her. This was her new game, if she saw us kissing, really kissing, she'd scream and run away. Since we only ever did that in front of her around the house, it was more amusing than anything else. Tate came back a moment later with her cradled in his arms making kissing faces at her as she covered her eyes with her little hands and chanted "ew, ew, ew" between giggles, so she could give me a kiss before he made her breakfast.

Other than Leila's room the house was still awash in boxes, and we had both taken a few days off work to spend unpacking and organizing. After we dropped her off we walked home slowly, enjoying the day. I was quiet, thinking about our thwarted kiss this morning, and wondering idly if he was quiet for the same reason. When we walked through the door and saw all the boxes we still had to unpack I let out and sigh and started to walk off towards the livingroom, but Tate caught my hand in his, and spun me around to face him. I could see the darkness and lust flooding his eyes as he looked me.

He pulled me into him, pressing me against his body almost painfully as his lips attacked mine. "I want you" he murmured as he kissed his way along my neck, and started pulling my upstairs towards out bedroom. By the time we got there he was carrying me, and we collapsed, almost fell onto the bed as we were undressing each other. As soon as I got his shirt off I ran my hands up his chest to the back of his neck to pull him back down to me. I could feel him pressing his hardness into me between the barrier of our clothes, rutting against me forcefully.

I reached down to loosen his belt, and with one fluid movement he pulled my bra straps down forcefully enough to expose my breasts, licking and kissing them, nipping on the sensitive skin of my nipples, making me gasp in pleasure and pain. I worked my hand into his pants to stroke and tease him, making him groan in frustration. He pulled back and kicked out of his pants before pinning my hands over my head in one of his while he guided himself into me with the other, making me moan at the feeling of him forcing my walls apart.

He kept me pinned that way, working his cock in and out of me while our lips fought for control. But I loved the feeling of him dominating me, and he knew it; every time he'd change his pace I'd pull my lips away, arching my back, and smiling at the sensation of it. By the time he released me he was pouring with sweat from the effort, making our skin slick and sticky as he wrapped his arms around me and pressed himself into me, his thrusts becoming deep and forceful as we came together.

Afterwards I was lying on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, enjoying the feeling of the sheets against my skin as I traced his face with my fingers when he asked if I was happy.

"I'm married to someone I love, and who still looks at me like I'm the only person he sees. We have a beautiful daughter who we adore, and who you're a wonderful father to. So yeah, you could say I'm happy." I could see light bruises developing on my wrists from where he had held them.

"You forgot to add that I'm great in bed." He said with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

"That too." And we both laughed. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I was thinking on the way home that I am really, genuinely happy with my life. It wasn't until I met you that I wanted a future, and the thought that I could have missed that - never met you, never had Leila - it made my heart break a little."

It wasn't until later that day when I was flipping through copies of the articles I'd written for Dig Boston trying to organize them that I found a battered manila envelope that disgorged pictures of Tate and I from before we moved to Boston. I was sitting on the floor flipping through them when he sat down next to me.

"I didn't know you had these." He said quietly, running his fingers over them as he smiled. "A lot has changed since then, huh?"

I leaned into him and he wrapped an arm around me. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No. I'm glad we left all that craziness behind us when we moved. Besides some things don't change." He looked down at me. "The love I have for you hasn't; it's still crazy and intense. You're still all I want."


	12. Chapter 12

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"What happened to your arms?"

I looked down into Leila's eyes, they were the same caramel brown as Vi's and it didn't help. She was looking at me steadily, my beautiful little girl, all spunk and curiosity just like her mom, even at eight years old, and I didn't know how to answer her. I heard Ben cough uncomfortably next to me as he flipped through the manual for the crib we were assembling. I tried to smile at her and answer her as vaguely as I could without lying to her. "Well a long time ago I got hurt." She was too young to know this. Someday I'd tell her, but eight was too young. "Can you do me a favor?" I tried to distract her.

She smiled up at me. "Okay."

"Can you go tell mommy that we'd really like a snack? Some bananas? Can you do that?"

"Right. Bananas." She shot out of the room.

"Bananas?" Ben asked.

"It's our code. Whenever we need to talk about something without her around."

"You know you're going to have to tell her at some point."

"Yeah, I know. Believe me I've thought about it. What am I supposed to do if she falls for someone like me when she starts dating? If she knows what these scars are really about she'll always point to them and go 'well you tried to kill mom and then yourself, so really this guy isn't as bad so stop being a hypocrite'. I can't deal with that." Ben tried not to laugh, failed, snorted, and burst out in laughter. "Thanks."

"It would serve you right." He was still laughing. "All the sleepless nights and worry you and Violet put me through; it's a miracle I didn't develop an ulcer at the least."

"What's so funny?" Violet asked from the door, startling both of us.

"Nothing. Tate's just experiencing the worries of a parent." Ben answered. "I find it funny." He smirked. "Actually I find it kind of appropriate retribution, but still... funny."

Violet rolled her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Where is she?"

"Downstairs with Vera getting lunch ready." Violet looked back at her dad. "And if you're going to gloat you can go downstairs to."

He smiled and walked out, patting her belly and kissing her cheek before he closed the door behind him. She walked up and wrapped her arms around my neck, getting as close as she could despite being almost nine months pregnant. "What's wrong?"

"She asked about my scars. The ones from..." I looked down trailing off.

"What did you say?" She asked gently.

"Just that I got hurt a long time ago."

"Well, she's eight. It's all the answer she needs right now." She pecked me on the cheek and lowered herself carefully into the rocking chair, closing her eyes and pushing herself gently back and forth. "I think even if we explained it to her right now she wouldn't understand it; it would just upset her."

I sat down next to her on the floor, resting a hand on her stomach. "Yeah, I know. We'll have to explain it some day. I just hate feeling like I'm lying to her."

"You're not. It's just not time yet."

"There's no good time to tell her that story. Well, no... maybe when she's thirty."

Violet smiled. "She's going to be a typical teenager, Tate. She's going to screw up and make mistakes, just like we did. The best we can do is be honest with her, support her, and help her when she makes those mistakes. It's life. It's going to happen. At some point we can't protect her from everything."

I let out a sigh. "I know. I just wish I could. I mean cuts and bruises, and playground drama I can deal with, but dating..." Violet's laughter cut me off. "What?"

"You're the most overprotective dad of all the kids in her grade. When she was getting her immunizations you couldn't even be in the same room with her because she'd cry and then you'd cry. God help any boy stupid enough break her heart; Jesus, I'm going to have to sedate you."

"I just want to protect her." It came out defensive and indignant, but Violet just made grabby hands at me until I got close enough and she could kiss me.

"I know you do, and so do I. You're a great dad, Tate, but I always knew you'd be... well... the way you are with me, with her, you know?" I nodded. I couldn't help it; they were everything to me, but she was right. She released me and I sunk back down to the floor. "Oh!" Our eyes locked as we both felt the baby moving inside of her. I let a smile spread across my face. "He's restless today." She murmured, and then her eyes widened in shock. "Sorry."

"We're having a boy this time?" I asked her wonderingly. She had found out weeks ago, but I wanted it to be a surprise, so I hadn't stayed in the room to find out.

She nodded, looking contrite over her slip-up. "Sorry." She reiterated in a small voice.

I leaned up again, cradling her face in my hands. "It's okay." I kissed her lips softly. "How are you doing?"

"A little tired. I think after this one, I'm done." She looked down, running her hand over the swell of her stomach.

"You said that after Leila. In fact that's the reason I'm having to assemble a new crib." I reminded her.

"I know, but this time I think I mean it. I think it was good we waited until she was in school full-time to try again, but if we do that after this one I'll be in my late thirties, and my mom..." I could see the tears forming in her eyes.

"Hey. Vi, look at me." Her eyes lifted to mine unwillingly. "Whatever you want is fine with me, but what happened to your mom was really rare, a fluke; it's more likely you'll be struck by lightning."

She wiped away the tears before they could slide down her cheeks. "I know." She sighed. "I'm ready to not be pregnant; my mood's all over the place for one thing, and toting around a baby-filled basketball on my stomach is getting old, quick."

Ben yelled from downstairs that lunch was ready and she groaned. "You want to stay up here? I can bring something up. A little picnic in the nursery?" She smiled at me, a real smile, and I squeezed her hand and went downstairs.

"Everything okay?" Ben asked quietly as I walked in the kitchen.

"Fine." I murmured trying to keep my voice low so Vera and Leila wouldn't hear. "Vivien's been on her mind, she's a little worried, and she's tired."

He looked distressed. "Should I go talk to her?"

"No, it's okay. Would you mind keeping Leila down here for while we eat upstairs though? I think she just needs a little time to relax."

"No problem."

Violet was still in the rocking chair when I came back in the room carrying a heavily laden tray. "So where were we?" I set the tray down, handing her a sandwich.

"Baby filled basketball strapped to my stomach?"

"Oh yeah. Well, it won't be long now."

"You might want to get cracking on that crib. I mean, I could pop him out before I finish this sandwich."

"Funny."

"Are you going to freak out again when I go into labor?"

"Probably." She rolled her eyes at me. "I can't help it! I hate seeing you in pain."

"Just so you know, it's all your fault."

"I know. I'm pretty sure you screamed that at me the last time."

"I'm probably going to do it again."

"Fine by me."

"I might hit you too."

"That sounds fair." She laughed. We ate and talked and when the food was gone, she stayed and watched me work for a little while before she let me persuade her to take a nap. Between Ben and I we got the crib and the rest of the furniture assembled and he offered to take Leila for the weekend, so when Violet woke against with a stretch and groan the house was quiet and peaceful. "Where is everyone?" she asked groggily, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

"Your dad's. Leila wanted to spend the rest of the weekend with grandpa and auntie."

"They spoil her."

"They do." I said gravely.

"You want to go for a walk?" She asked, sitting up. "The leaves are changing." So we bundled up and headed out, walking casually around our neighborhood, enjoying the crisp fall air, picking up some of the more vibrantly colored leaves so Vi could make a collage of them to hang in the nursery. We went to bed late, and she fell asleep with her back pressed against my chest.

I thought over the day, worrying about what I would eventually have to tell Leila about my scars. Worrying about the prospect of a new baby, and the changes it would mean; worrying that I wouldn't love him enough, or that Leila wouldn't be loved enough with a new baby around. She was a daddy's girl, and though I would never admit it to Vi, I had a connection with her that she didn't have with her mom. When she got bumps and bruises and scrapes I was the one she ran to. When something was wrong with the world she ran to me to fix it, and every time she did it made me a better person, because I wanted to be someone she could be proud of, someone she could look up to.

I thought fleetingly of Violet's morbid fear of her mother's fate, and tried to push it out before it overwhelmed me; the prospect of raising two kids without her by my side both terrible and impossible. The tears sprung to my eyes and fell into her hair before I could stop them. She stirred in her sleep and I forced the thought out: she needed me to be strong for her. I focused on happier avenues, of the son on the way and smiled because his childhood would be so different from my own. Addie would be so excited when we went for our yearly visit and she got to meet him.

Addie... we kept trying to convince her come to Boston, and she did visit, but she was happy in Los Angeles. She had friends in the group home, and Travis to take her places on the weekends when he wasn't busy working, having finally gotten a gig as a regular on a soap opera and given up dog walking for good. We spent our summer vacations in L.A., and thanks to phones and email were always in contact, but I still missed her. But she was happy, and it was the life she wanted, and I could at least give her that freedom that she was denied for so long.

It was a few weeks later when I was sitting at my desk looking over the latest manuscript from one our best selling author when the phone rang. I picked it up without looking up. "Tate Langdon."

"It's me. I'm on my way to the hospital."

"You're not due for another 10 days." I could feel the panic rising in my chest.

"Yeah, well tell that to the baby because he wants out. Now."

"I'm on my way." I slammed the phone down and ran out of my office, down 20 flights of stairs because the elevator just wouldn't be fast enough, and broke every speed limit on the way there. She was already admitted when I arrived, and Ben was with her, Vera at our house with Leila. "Are you okay?" I practically knocked Ben out of my way.

"Fine." She ground out as she squeezed my hand during a contraction.

"The baby?" I looked around at Ben.

"Fine. Can I talk to you outside for a moment?" He motioned towards the door, and I reluctantly followed, my head already spinning through a dozen worst case scenarios. "You seriously need to calm down Tate, you're going to upset her." He snapped once the door was shut behind us. "She's almost 39 weeks, so they'll do a few extra tests, but realistically the baby and Violet will be fine." I was only half listening, watching Vi through the little window in the door. "Hey!" He yelled and he finally had my full attention. "Did you hear me?"

I took a deep breath. "Yeah." I breathed it out, forcing myself to calm down. "Yeah, okay." He waited until I nodded and then let me back in. "Sorry." I apologized as I swept the hair from her face. "I didn't mean to overreact. What can I do?"

"Not getting me pregnant again would be a start. And by the way, I hate you." I smiled. If she could be biting and sarcastic that was a good sign. And it was. Five hours, and a very uneventful birth later, Lucas Beauregard Langdon was busy crying in his mom's arms as he was greeted by his family for the first time.

* * *

"Leila's kissing Hunter!" Lucas announced as he ran through the house, up the stairs, and breathlessly into the office Violet and I now shared. "Leila's kissing Hunter! On the front porch!" He added because apparently we just didn't get how serious this was. You'd think he was announcing the advent.

"C'mere you." Violet motioned to him and he bounded into her arms, nearly knocking them both to the floor. She squeezed him against her. "Don't be a pest. Leila's old enough to kiss boys. Now, are you done packing?" He nodded. "I don't believe you." She teased. "Bring me your suitcase." He ran out of the room and down the hall. I glared at her across the room. "It's Hunter, Tate. She's known him since they were ten and you're not blind. He's always over here; they've always been inseparable. He's a good kid."

"I hate him."

"You love him. You just hate that he's kissing your daughter."

I let out a sigh, trying to stamp out the irrational anger and natural protectiveness. For once I felt sympathy for Ben; why he didn't try to have me arrested or committed was, for a moment, beyond my comprehension. "Guess you better have The Talk with her."

She looked at me with amused disbelief. "I had The Talk with her when she was ten and again when she was thirteen. You should have seen her face when I showed pictures of what STD's would do to you. I thought she was going to join a nunnery."

"You didn't tell me." I couldn't help but be hurt that she'd excluded me from part of her life, even one as mortifying as this. "And how can you be so calm about this?"

"First of all, it's an embarrassing thing. She didn't want you to have any part of that conversation. Secondly, we always knew this was going to happen. If she had to kiss someone I'm glad it's Hunter. We know him, we know his parents, he's a good kid, and he makes her happy." She turned her attention back to Lucas as he drug his suitcase through the door to lay at her feet for inspection. We were leaving for L.A. in the morning, and he had decided that this year he was old enough to pack his bag himself.

I heard the front door close quietly and soft footsteps up the stairs; Leila trying to sneak her way back into the house. I got up, and Vi looked at me. "Tate." She said my name like a warning, but I waved her off.

"Leila?" I spoke into her bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"I'm kind of busy dad." I heard from the other side of the door.

"I know. I just need a few minutes."

"Okay." She opened the door and her cheeks were a brilliant, burning red. Aside from wavy hair I could have been staring at Violet at that age.

I sat down on her bed and rolled up my sleeves. She sat next to me, looking uncomfortable and perplexed. "You've asked me about these scars a couple of times, and I've never really told you how I got them, did I?" She shook her head, and I took a deep breath. "You've probably guessed because you're smart and observant, but when I was eighteen I tried to commit suicide." I heard her breathing hitch. "After I nearly killed your mom."

She looked at me with a mixture of fear and confusion, and it broke my heart. "But you guys... I mean you love each other so much. Why would you do that?"

"Because I loved her so much." I said with a bitter smile. "Look, you know your mom and I were really messed up kids. I mean my own mother was abusive for years until she killed my brother and eventually tried to kill me. Your mom had to deal with the grief of losing her own mother, and having to fill that roll with her sister. None of that was easy for us to deal with. When we met we sort of saved each other; I'm not sure either of us would be where we are today without the other; I know I wouldn't be. But almost six months after we met something happened, something major, and things kind of fell apart."

"What happened?" She interrupted.

"I promise I'll tell you one day, okay? Not today." She nodded looking unhappy, but I didn't think I could handle the way she'd look at me if I dumped all this on her at once. "Anyway, things fell apart and we didn't really talk for about three weeks, and thinking that she didn't want me anymore... I started using drugs again, like a lot. When she finally came to me I was so fucked up, totally out of my mind, and I tried to kill her, strangle her actually." I couldn't possibly explain about the strange phenomena of the Murder House to her without her thinking I actually did need to be committed. "I thought I had killed her and when I realized that I slit my wrists, and laid down on the bed next to her to die."

"But neither of you died." Her voice was barely above a whisper and she was sitting just like Violet used to; hands cupping elbows, shoulders hunched.

"She woke up. I had bled out a lot, but I was still alive. She called 911 and now I have a lot of scars."

"Why did she take you back?" It was an honest question and one that I still asked myself sometimes.

"She loved me, and I loved her, and we needed each other; we still do actually. She had her rules, and I had these scars as reminders; if things had started to go badly again I think she would have left, and I definitely would have killed myself. I can never make up for what I did that night, Leila, but I love her and I try, and we have two beautiful kids who are better and smarter than we were at that age." I smiled at her, and she looked embarrassed like she always did. But it was true, they were both excellent students, were actually happy spending time with their family, and so far we hadn't seen any suspicious cuts, or had them come home high or drunk, which we considered a win (though admittedly Lucas was eight, so that criteria didn't quite apply yet).

"Anyway, I never told you this before because I was worried it would set a bad example. I thought you would see these scars and hear their story and you would think that love can fix anything, and I didn't want you to think that because it's not true. But you are smarter than we were at that age, and I know you won't think that, so I wanted to answer your question honestly." I rolled my sleeves down, kissed her on top the head, and made for the door before she spoke.

"Why are you telling me this now?" I couldn't help but beam at her. So smart, so blunt; just like her mom.

"I guess because I want you to know I trust you. I don't think you'll draw the wrong conclusions, and as much as I may not like to admit it, I have to agree with your mom; Hunter isn't a bad kid." She blushed again. "Okay. I'm done embarrassing you. Get some sleep, we leave early."

I closed the door softly behind me and came face-to-face with Violet who pulled me against her tightly. "I'd say you don't have to keep making up for it, but that wouldn't make any difference would it?"

"Nope. Besides making it up to you makes me happy too."

She smiled up at me, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me down to her level. "Feel like making it up to me right now?" I nodded and closed the gap between us, lips finding each other in a pattern that was nearly two decades old by now, but still felt heady and intense like they always did. Her hands slipped down to grab my ass, pulling me against her, and pressing her against the wall as my and snaked it's way up her shirt.

We didn't hear the door open quietly behind us. "Oh my God!" Leila's bedroom door slammed shut. "I do not need that image burned into my brain. Seriously! What is wrong with you two?" Leila yelled from the safety of her bedroom.

I felt Violet's cheek burn against me as she stifled a laugh into my chest. "Well, I guess we had to give her some emotional baggage. I mean really, childhood isn't complete without it." Violet pushed me away and I chased her to our bedroom, locking the door behind us and pulling her down on the bed with me. We made it to L.A. the next day in a state of blissful exhaustion.


End file.
